Kiss Me or Kill Me
by deepwater1978
Summary: I was sent to kill her. But when I looked into her eyes, I couldn't pull the trigger. And the way she gazed at me made me weak. I didn't know why, but nothing would ever be the same again.
1. Chapter 1

_Richmond_

 _Six month earlier…_

The two-block walk from the bus stop to her apartment was a terrifying ordeal late at night. Reluctantly Elena Gilbert left the small island of light cast by the streetlamp and started the treacherous journey into the darkness. At least it had stopped raining. She clamped her purse tightly to her side and clutched her keys the way she had been taught in the two-hour self-defence class the hospital had offered to its staff. The small jagged bits of metal protruded between her fingers like claws.

Should never have agreed to take the night shift, she thought. But the extra pay had been too tantalizing to resist. Six months from now she would have enough saved up to buy a used car. No more lonely late-night rides on the bus.

She was a block and a half from her apartment house when she heard the footsteps behind her. She thought her heart would stop. She fought her instincts and forced herself to turn around and look. A man emerged from a nearly empty parking lot. For a few seconds the streetlight gleamed on his shaved head. He had the bulky frame of a bodybuilder on steroids. She relaxed a little. She did not know him, but she knew where he was going.

The big man disappeared through the glass doors of the gym. The small neon sign in the window announced that it was open twenty-four hours a day. It was the only establishment on the street that was still illuminated. The bookstore, with its window full of occult books and Goth jewellery, the pawnshop, the tiny hair salon and the payday loan operation had been closed for hours.

The gym was not one of those upscale fitness clubs that catered to the spandex-and-yoga crowd; it was the kind of facility frequented by dedicated bodybuilders. The beefy men who came and went from the premises did not know it, but she sometimes thought of them as her guardian angels. If anything ever happened to her on the long walk home, her only hope was that someone inside the gym would hear her scream and come to help.

She was almost at the intersection when she caught the shift of shadows in a doorway across the street. A man waited there. Was he watching her? Something about the way he moved told her that he was not one of the men from the gym. He wasn't pumped up on steroids and weights. There was, instead, a lean, sleek, almost predatory air about him.

Her pulse, already beating much too quickly, started to pound as the fight-or-flight response kicked in. There was a terrible prickling on the nape of her neck. The urge to run was almost overwhelming, but she could hardly breathe now. In any event, she had no hope of outrunning a man. The only refuge was the gym, but the dark silhouette on the other side of the street stood between her and the entrance. Maybe she should scream. But what if her imagination had gotten the better of her? The man across the street did not seem to be paying any attention to her. He was intent on the entrance of the gym.

She froze, unable to make a decision. She watched the figure on the other side of the street the way a baby rabbit watches a snake.

She never heard the killer come out of the shadows behind her. A sweaty, masculine hand clamped across her mouth. A sharp blade pricked her throat. She heard a clatter of metal on the sidewalk and realized that she had just dropped her only weapon, the keys.

"Quiet or you die now," a hoarse voice muttered in her ear. "Be a shame if we didn't have time to play."

She was going to die, anyway, she thought. She had nothing to lose. She dropped her purse and tried to struggle but it was useless. The man had an arm around her throat. He dragged her into the alley, choking her. She reached up and managed to rake her fingernails across the back of his hand. She would not survive the night but she could damn well collect some of the bastard's DNA for the cops.

"I warned you, bitch. I'm really going to take my time with you. I want to hear you beg."

She could not breathe, and the hand across her mouth made it impossible to scream. To think that her fall-back plan had always been to yell for help from the gym.

The alley was drenched in night, but there was another kind of darkness enveloping her. With luck she would suffocate from the pressure of his arm on her throat before he could use the knife, she thought. She had worked in the Emergency Department as a physician. She knew what knives could do.

A figure loomed at the entrance of the alley, silhouetted by the weak streetlight behind him. She knew it was the man she had seen in the doorway across the street. Two killers working as a team? She was so sunk into panic and despair that she wondered if she was hallucinating.

"Let her go," the newcomer said, coming down the alley. His voice promised death as clearly as the knife at her throat.

Her captor stopped. "Get out of here or I will slit her throat. I swear I will."

"Let her go." The stranger walked forward. He was not rushing in, but there was something lethal and relentless about his approach, a predator who knows the prey is trapped. "Or you will regret."

"No," her captor shouted. "She is mine."

The sound suppressor on the pistol muffled the shot, but in the surrounding stillness, the spitting noise seemed as loud to Elena's ears as a fire alarm.

Suddenly she was free-falling. She landed with a jolt on the damp pavement. The man with the knife reeled back and fetched up against the alley wall.

"Who are you?" he hissed, madness and rage vibrating in the single word. Light glinted on the knife he still clutched but she could see blood dripping from his arm.

"You are the Strangler who has terrorised the town," the stranger said.

Elena gasped at the name. The Strangler was the killer who had terrorised the town in recent weeks. He killed young women without mercy. He strangled them to death and then mutilated their bodies.

"You can't stop me," the Strangler growled. "They deserve to die. They are whores."

"No, they don't," the stranger said. "But you do."

Another sound of a gunshot echoed endlessly in the alley. The Strangler dropped the knife and dropped to the pavement.

The dark figure loomed over the Strangler for a moment. She saw him lean down and realized that he was checking for a pulse. She knew that he would not find one. She recognized death when she saw it.

The man straightened and turned towards her. Fear held her immobile. Her first impression was one of hardness although it was too dark to see his face clearly. Their eyes met and Elena felt a wrench. Like something had caught hold of her soul as it flitted along in life and brought it to an immediate, shuddering stop.

His eyes were grey-blue. She had never seen eyes like them, bright and clear but completely without warmth. Eyes that decided your fate in a millisecond. They had such an utter sense of purpose that they made everyone else look as if they were sleepwalking. Being under his gaze was scary as all hell. If she could have remembered how to move, she would have. They were eyes that made you run.

Except…

"Leave," he ordered. "Now!"

Another wave of panic slammed through her, bringing with it a fresh dose of adrenaline. She scrambled to her feet and fled towards the street. A block away she finally stopped to catch her breath. When she looked back she saw nothing. The street was empty.

There was no news about the death of the Strangler the following morning. But he was never seen or heard again.

The Strangler's body was never recovered.

* * *

 **I have been debating with myself when I should post this story and finally I have decided to share this Delena story with my readers. I hope you guys/gals will enjoy this. It is a challenge to write something like this but I'm happy to give it a go. Bear with me if my writing isn't that good in this story...I will try my best to improve and share this wonderful Delena story with you guys/gals.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

_Richmond_

 _Present day…_

"You have to follow every word to the letter. You understand?" Elena asked in her sternest voice.

Her patient, a seven-year-old with an ear infection, nodded gravely.

"You have to take your medication every morning until they have run out, no complaining."

The girl nodded again.

"And you have to rest when your mother tells you to."

Another nod.

"And, finally, you can eat at least one scoop of chocolate ice cream before bed every night."

The girl's eyes widened and she began to giggle. "Really?"

"Really." Elena held up her hand in a gesture of sincerity. "Doctor's orders."

"Thank you, Dr Gilbert," the girl's mother said.

Elena touched her arm lightly. "Your daughter is going to be fine. Like I said before, ear infection is very common in kids and if this is a recurrent problem, then she may need grommet, but until then, she should be able to do just about anything a child her age does."

The mother's eyes filled with tears. Elena just smiled and walked away, pausing at the nurse's desk to drop off the iPad used to update patient charts.

"Looks like you made another friend," Liv Parker, the head nurse of the Emergency Room of Richmond Community Hospital, said.

Elena glanced back and saw the seven-year-old wave at her as she and her mother strode towards the exit.

"It is easy to make friends when everything goes the way it is supposed to." She turned back to the iPad and inputted the last of her notes on the appropriate lines.

"Happy hour tonight at Wild Fire?"

Elena handed the chart to Liv. "Sure."

Liv glanced around the crowded Emergency Room. Apparently satisfied that no one could overhear, she leaned closer to Elena and lowered her voice. "I hear that hunk from radiology is going to be there."

Elena's eyebrows rose. There was a new guy in the radiology department, a technician who was built kind of like Chris Hemsworth, from the blond hair to the bulging muscles. All the nurses were talking about him to the point that Elena finally went down to catch a glimpse of him herself. And she had to admit, he was really easy on the eyes.

Elena had always put love on the back burner. She had a string of lovers in college and medical school, but her career was always her priority. She had always assumed there would be time for love, for marriage, for a family…sometime later.

The last guy she went out with was an accountant that she was set up with by one of her college roommates. He spent the whole night talking about the new tax laws and all the things people tend to do wrong on their tax returns. It took all she had not to fall asleep with her face in her plate of shrimp scampi. And then he had the nerve to tell her roommate that Elena bored him…that she wouldn't speak, that she chose the most expensive item on the menu, and that she wouldn't give him a simple kiss on the cheek when he dropped her off at her apartment.

She was so angry that she refused to accept any more blind dates from her friends.

She had always believed in the saying – _don't find love, let love find you. That's why it is called falling in love because you don't force yourself to fall. You just fall._

Memories of that night six months ago floated through Elena's mind. She remembered how close she was facing death that night if he hadn't appeared. There was something different about him, dangerous. But not in a way that scared her. He was exciting in a way. There was something about the way he had looked at her, the fact that it was just no effort at all to keep her captured. It made her a little weak whenever she thought about those smouldering eyes. Meeting him had left her unsettled and unaccountably restless. She had told herself she would get over it but it was easier said than done.

 _Get yourself together!_

She shouldn't be interested in him in the first place. He was dangerous. He had killed a man. He was no good for her.

Still, she had allowed herself a few interesting daydreams.

"Hello? Anyone home in there?" Liv snapped her finger.

"Hmm? What?" Elena jolted as she realized her thoughts had wandered off while Liv was talking to her.

"He is a good catch. He is funny and smart, according to what I hear," Liv said. "The most important of all, he is still single."

"Right," Elena said dryly.

Liv gave her a commiserating look. "I know the last guy didn't go well."

"He is a total jerk."

"Right." Liv nodded. "Total jerk. Think of it as an experiment that didn't go well."

"It was a mistake, not an experiment."

"Uh-uh." Liv wagged her forefinger. "You know what they say, it is only a mistake if you don't learn from it."

"I learned a lot from it," Elena said. "I won't choose shrimp scampi in my next date."

At six that evening, Elena, Liv and April Young settled into a wooden booth at the popular bar near Richmond Community Hospital.

"Just what I need to finish off a busy day," Elena said as she took a sip of her glass of white wine.

Liv glanced around the crowded bar. "I wonder what time will the hunk from radiology is going to be here."

"He likes to come here after work on Friday," April added. "He should be here anytime."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Please. When are you girls going to stop looking at boys?"

"Trust me, he is really hot," April said as she took a swallow of her beer.

"Trust me, what I want to night is a nice glass of wine," Elena said, lifting her wine glass.

"Tell me, Elena, what do you do for fun?" April asked.

"Fun?" The question put Elena off stride.

"As far as I can tell, all you do is work," April said. "If work isn't fun for you, where do you go and what do you do when you are looking for a good time?"

Elena frowned. "You make it sound like I never get out of the hospital."

Liv challenged her. "Do you?"

"I'm here, aren't I? This sure as hell isn't the ER."

April took another swallow of her beer. "You are right. This isn't the ER. So, tell me, are you having fun yet?"

"I'm here to have fun with you girls," Elena said. "It is happy hour."

"Pay attention, Elena." April leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. "Fooling around with a good-looking guy is fun."

"Bullshit," Elena said quickly.

April flopped back in her chair. "You need to have fun, Elena."

Liv drank her red wine. "I agree with April."

"What if he isn't the right person for you?" Elena asked. She thought about the last guy she went out with and shuddered. "Not nice."

"Sure. Intelligent, educated, clearheaded women like us know better than to marry guys who aren't right for us." April smiled a smug little smile. "But that doesn't mean it wouldn't be fun to fool around with one."

Liv laughed. "April is right. I don't mind fooling around with a man, a real man. Hot, sexy, and maybe a little dangerous."

"Yeah, right." Elena raised her glass in a mocking little toast. "Here's to you girls. Good luck finding yourself Mr Sexy, Dangerous and Incredibly Handsome."

"Imaging fooling around with Mr Sexy, Dangerous and Incredibly Handsome," April said excitedly. "How cool is that?"

"Whatever." Elena finished her wine. She slipped out from behind the table. "Now, if you will all excuse me, I'm going home."

"You are taking some time off, aren't you?" April called after her. "Where are you going?"

"Family trip."

Liv raised her brows in polite inquiry. "You are going with Jenna?"

"No."

April and Liv looked at her.

"Meaning?" April asked.

"Complicated," Elena said. She hitched the strap of her purse over her shoulder and started towards the door. "I'm a lost heir."

x x x

The birth of Elena Gilbert was a double tragedy. The minor tragedy was that Elena's mother left her father after the delivery. The major tragedy was that Elena was born a girl.

For nine months, until she emerged from the darkness of her mother's womb, she was the most eagerly awaited child in the world, heir to a colossal empire, the multibillion-dollar giant, Gilbert & Company.

Miranda Sommers, was a woman of surpassing beauty. Many women had tried to marry Grayson Gilbert, for his position, his prestige, his wealth. Miranda had married him because she had fallen in love with him. It had proved to be the worst of reasons. Grayson had neither the time nor the temperament to be a family man. There was no room in his life for anything but Gilbert & Company. He was fanatically dedicated to the company, and he expected no less from those around him. Miranda's importance to him lay solely in the contribution she could give him a son who would one day inherit the kingdom. By the time Miranda came to a realization of what kind of marriage she had made, it was too late. She didn't receive enough love from her husband. Her marriage life was joyless and empty.

Becoming pregnant had changed all that. Grayson was thrilled. Miranda knew how desperately he wanted a son. He was depending on her. He showered her with gifts and attention when he found out about the pregnancy. But the happiness didn't last long.

Grayson was disappointed when Miranda had delivered a baby girl. She knew she had failed her husband.

One week after Elena was born, Miranda took her back to her hometown Richmond. During the first five years of her life, Elena saw very little of her father. He was barely more than a blur, a stranger who had never bothered to send her so much as a note or a birthday card.

When Elena was a year old, Grayson had filed for divorce and Miranda ended with full custody of Elena. According to what she had told Elena, her father was only interested in his business. There was no room in his life for anything, apart from his business.

Miranda had returned to her acting after Elena had turned two, necessitating young Elena many overnight stays with her grandparents, and subsequently with Miranda's sister Jenna when her grandparents passed away. Miranda continued to be a glamorous actress despite the critics had continued to pan her acting. The gossip columnists had hinted at serious romances between her and nearly all her leading men in Hollywood. It was obvious to Elena that wherever she went, Miranda had been surrounded by handsome men.

Elena realised what her mother said about her father was true. But she had not really understood what was going on when she was younger. In her teenage naivete she had even dared to hope her parents would at least fight using verbal grenades filled with accusations and the kind of sarcasm that sliced to the bone. But there was no accusation or sarcasm because Grayson was never around.

Miranda married again when Elena was seventeen and moved to Houston with her husband. She loved her mother and wanted her to be happy. She knew her mother loved her, too. But she couldn't say it was true of her relationship with her father. He seemed to have pay more attention to her after Miranda got married. Unfortunately, Elena had never felt a rush of affection towards her father.

Elena remembered Grayson calling her when she had informed her mother that she was going to become a doctor. She had heard regret in the voices of both her parents. "Are you sure you don't want to do a degree in management?" Miranda had asked. "You have so much potential, dear." Her father had been blunter. "You can donate to charity if you want to help people. I can easily find you a position in Gilbert & Company if you get a degree in management."

In her father's eyes, Elena knew, she had failed him. In fact, when Grayson had found out Elena had decided to go to medical school, he had refused to talk to her for the entire year.

Family dynamics. Their version of family would never be the subject of a Norman Rockwell painting, but still, it was family.

There was an unreality about her father's death when she heard the news two weeks ago, perhaps because he had been so alive. What would happen to the company now? Her father had held the controlling interest. She wondered to whom he had left the stock.

Elena learned the answer late the next afternoon. Grayson's lawyer had appeared at her apartment. "I brought a copy of your father's will with me. I hate to intrude on your grief at a time like this, but I thought it best that you know at once. You are your father's sole beneficiary. That means that the controlling shares of Gilbert & Company are in your hands."

Elena could not believe it. Surely he did not expect her to run the company. "Why?" she asked. "Why me?"

The attorney hesitated, then said, "May I be frank, Miss Gilbert? Your father was a comparatively young man. I'm sure he didn't expect to die for many years. In time, I'm confident he would have made another will, designating someone to take over the company. He probably had not made up his mind yet." He shrugged. "All that is academic, however. The point is that the control now rests in your hands. You will have to decide what you want to do with it, who you want to give it to." He studied her for a moment, then continued, "There has never before been a woman on the board of directors of Gilbert & Company, but…well, for the moment you are taking your father's place. There is a board meeting in San Francisco in two weeks' time. Can you be there?"

Grayson would have expected it of her.

"I will be there," Elena said.


	3. Chapter 3

Exactly five minutes before six Trevor Bolden tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth and said, "Three women walk into a bar."

Damon Salvatore, hunched forward on the bar stool next to Trevor's and, staring into his drink with every indication of boredom, gave the glass of bourbon a couple of idle turns. "Yeah? And?"

"And nothing."

"That's the joke?"

"No joke, and not a damn thing about this is funny."

As though he had been popped with a rubber band, Damon's boredom vanished. His head snapped around to look at Trevor.

Damon followed Trevor's eyes tracking movement from one side of the beer joint to the other. Tempted as he was to take a look for himself, he stayed on his partner's face. In dread of the answer, he asked, "Any woman in particular?"

"Particularly, our woman."

"She is here?"

"As I live and breathe." Trevor dusted popcorn salt off his hands. "Currently at one o'clock over your right shoulder, so don't turn around, because she is facing this way."

"She alone?" Damon muttered.

"No. There are two women with her."

"How the hell are we going to do it?"

"Relax, bro," Trevor drawled. "Everything is okay. She will be alone eventually."

"Right."

Trevor grinned. "She is hot. Her eyes skipped right past me just now but didn't light."

Damon snorted as he raised his glass to his mouth. "Because you are butt ugly."

"Hey, there are plenty of ladies that like me," Trevor retorted.

"If you say so." Damon tossed back the remainder of his bourbon. As he returned the empty glass to the bar, he glanced toward the subject of their interest, who was presently thanking the waiter for the glass of white wine he was setting down in front of her.

Elena Gilbert was his and Trevor's reason for being here. Here being the crowded bar at happy hour in Richmond.

Trevor scooped another handful of popcorn from the plastic bowl and shoved it into his mouth. Talking around the charred kernels, he asked, "You think she has a boyfriend?"

"Hell I know," Damon muttered. He bobbed his head in thanks to the bartender, who wordlessly offered to pour him a refill of bourbon then, with accurate presumption, uncapped another long neck for Trevor.

Trevor swallowed more beer, belched lager fumes, said around the burp, "Could be the girls are just cruising."

Damon cocked his eyebrow in doubt. "For a man, you mean?"

"Well, why not?"

"She is not the type."

Trevor chuckled and nudged Damon's arm with his elbow. "They are all the type."

"The voice of experience speaks again?"

Trevor gave a sage nod. "Hard to get? Total female bullshit, designed to make us work for it."

Damon picked up his bourbon and tossed it down. Decisively he set the empty glass on the bar and slid off the stool, making sure as he stood up that his shirttail covered the grip of the pistol holstered on his belt.

Trevor choked on his beer. "Where are you—"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to test your theory, ugly man."

"What the hell…"

"I need to use the bathroom."

As he sliced effortlessly through the noisy throng of office workers crowding the bar, he was sized up by drinkers of both sexes. Women regarded him with either speculation or flat-out invitation. Disinterested, he didn't engage, not even with a smile. Men gave him hard, cold, challenging stares, which he returned harder, colder, and more challenging. All looked away before he did.

Damon had that way about him.

As he got closer to the booth where Elena Gilbert was, he caught her eye, but briefly, before she directed her eyes back down to her glass of wine. No change in facial expression, no shift in body language, not a flutter of a single long eyelash.

With that face, that body, she could afford to be selective. No two ways about it, she could make just about any man's mouth water.

Which kind of sucked.

Since Damon had been hired to kill her.

"Okay. Let's go." Half an hour later Trevor finished his beer and led the way to the exit.

Damon fell into step behind him. He resisted the temptation to take one last look at Elena Gilbert.

As soon as he and Trevor cleared the door, he sucked in a deep breath to try and ease the tension between his shoulder blades and to clear his head of bar fug.

But the outside air was hot and humid, only a little fresher than that inside the bar. His shoulders remained tense as he followed Trevor to their car. The had left it at the far edge of the parking lot.

Trevor wedged himself into the passenger seat. As subordinate partner on this job, it fell to Damon to drive. Which was okay by him. He hated riding shotgun. If and when a situation went tits-up, he liked having control of the vehicle.

He put the key in the ignition, but Trevor said, "Hold on. We are not going anywhere yet."

Damon's heart bumped. "Why not?"

"The boss texted me just now. We are doing it here."

Damon just looked at him, then, "You joking?"

"No. The boss said there is no time like the present."

"Hell, there isn't," Damon hissed, gesturing back towards the bar. "We were seen in there."

"Which is another reason why the boss said to go ahead."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Makes perfect sense."

"Only if you want to get caught. Speaking for myself, I don't."

"So then don't get caught." Trevor extracted his pistol from the holster lodged between his belly. "The boss advises against it, too."

"Easy for him to say. It is not his ass that is exposed, is it?"

Trevor gave him a sidelong glance. "First time out and you are going soft on me."

"Not soft, old man. Sensible. I don't see why the fucking hurry."

"I explained that."

"Yeah, but follow her home and kill her there would be soon enough."

"The boss thinks it will be messy if we do it in her place. Someone might see us. Anyhow, it is not our decision to make."

Damon understood the reasoning, but he still didn't like it. Not at all.

"Someone might see us here."

"Well, whatever, the boss said to do it now, so…" For punctuation, Trevor used the slide of his 9mm to chamber a bullet.

Damon realized two things: His vote didn't count, and further argument was pointless. "Damn." He pulled his pistol from its holster and glanced back towards the entrance of the bar. "So how do you want to do it?"

"We wait here till she comes out. And I will do the honours," Trevor said as he worked his hands into latex gloves. He passed a pair to Damon. "You take her purse. The boss says to make it look like a robbery gone bad. A random crime."

"With no connection to anything."

Trevor chuckled. "Our job will be done then. You will be far and away, enjoying your money."

"I will buy a nice boat."

"I will buy nice pussy."

"Your mind is in the gutter, Trevor."

He chuckled again. "Where it feels right at home."

Noticing motion from the corner of his eye, Damon took another look through the rear window. "Here she comes."

"By herself?"

Damon waited to answer until the door had closed behind Elena Gilbert and no one followed her out. "Yep."

Since the building only had one exterior lighting, the parking lot was almost in complete darkness. A pale, slender moon was obscured by the moss-bearded branches of an oak that extended across three-quarters of the lot. There were no approaching headlights from either direction of the narrow state road.

Seizing the opportunity, Trevor opened his car door and got out, moving with more alacrity than Damon would have thought him capable of. The ugly man was jazzed. Trevor Bolden relished his line of work.

But so did Damon. The bourbon hadn't given him near the rush that straight-up adrenaline did now.

Being as light-footed as possible, they followed Elena Gilbert as she wended her way through the parking lot. It was jammed with cars. Her recent model SUV was a shiny, sleek standout. She used a key fob to unlock the driver's door.

Damon captured a drift of that seductive fragrance as she suddenly did an about-face.

Apparently his and Trevor's footfalls on the crushed shells hadn't been as light as they had thought. Or maybe animal instinct had alerted her to mortal danger. In any case, when she saw them rushing towards her, her lips parted on a quick inhale, her eyes went wide with alarm.

As Trevor swiftly closed the distance between them, his right hand snapped up from his side with precision and deadly purpose.

The sound suppressor on the pistol muffled the shot, but in the surrounding stillness, the spitting noise seemed as loud to Damon's ears as a fire alarm.

Trevor dropped like a sack of cement, his ravaged head haemorrhaging a red tide over the crushed shells.

Elena Gilbert watched in horror as a stream of blood funnelled towards her sandals. Then she looked up at Damon, who still held his pistol shoulder high and extended towards her. He said, "My money just doubled."

* * *

 ** _This story probably reminds you guys/gals about my previous story "Family Ties". But trust me, there will be more excitement in this one. There wasn't really a "bad-ass" in the previous but this one...keep an eye on it! You won't know who is your friend or your enemy until the last minute!_**

 ** _Please bear with me as this is a really challenging story to write...I may not update as quickly as before;)_**


	4. Chapter 4

_San Francisco_

 _Two weeks earlier…_

 _Grayson, you son of a bitch, how the hell could you do this to me?_

John Gilbert stood at the back of the tiny church and surveyed the cluster of mourners gathered in the front pews. September sunlight filtered down through the stained-glass windows illuminating the inside of the A-frame structure with a glow.

"We have gathered here today to bid Mr Grayson Gilbert farewell We are all devastated to lose him," the church minister said. "He was a dear friend, a wonderful brother…"

A wonderful brother? That was bullshit, John thought.

Grayson Gilbert, president of Gilbert & Company, the second largest pharmaceutical company in the world, a multibillion-dollar dynasty that girdled the globe. It was impossible to think of Grayson Gilbert as being dead. He had always been so vital, so full of life and energy, a man on the move, living in airplanes that raced him to company factories and offices all over the world, where he solved problems others could not deal with, created new concepts, pushed everyone to do more, to do better. He had been a brilliant and extraordinary man. Who would have thought his time had run out at the age of fifty-two?

Within days after Grayson's death questions were raised. Who could replace him? Who was capable of running the enormous empire he had left? Grayson had not chosen an heir apparent. Rumours circulated that his brother John Gilbert would take over his place.

But John knew he wasn't.

He still could not believe that his brother had ripped him off in the end. Grayson had stiffed him. Now the multibillion-dollar dynasty had gone to Elena Gilbert, Grayson's daughter.

The hell with it. Gilbert & Company belonged to him, John Gilbert, and he was damn well not going to allow it to fall into the grubby little palm of a woman who didn't know a thing about drugs. John's insides tightened with anger. He had been so close to owning Gilbert & Company free and clear.

John was the science geek back in high school. He loved chemistry and he had started playing around with hallucinogens in his senior year. Grayson, on the other hand, was a born executive. Both of them started supplying drugs the gangsters used to spike those so-called energy drinks in the underground clubs when they were in university, trying to double and triple every cent they made. After a year, their net worth reached one-million dollars and Gilbert & Company was formed. And then came the money. A lot of it.

 _Grayson needed me,_ John thought. _It was my drugs that made him a rock star here in San Francisco. And it was my drug that made it possible for him to form Gilbert & Company._

Without him, Grayson would never be the brilliant and extraordinary man in the pharmaceutical world. When he found out about Grayson's will, he had finally realised the truth. His brother needed him but had never appreciated him.

John's jaw hardened. _Didn't you see that she was no good for you, brother? She was a slut and her daughter will be no better._

Grayson was married for a brief period in his early twenties. Miranda Sommers had been an actress—not an especially good one, according to her reviews but there was no denying Miranda was a striking woman. Her features were patrician, her figure tall and elegant. Her amber-brown hair was cut in a sleek, sophisticated style that was modern and timeless.

John had never liked his sister-in-law. He had always thought Miranda had Grayson on the end of her puppet strings. He didn't know why his brother had fallen for a woman like Miranda.

The marriage didn't last long- long enough for Miranda to get pregnant and delivered a baby girl. Grayson was disappointed because he was desperate to have a son. He had never gone near his daughter after she was born. It was then that Miranda understood. Grayson didn't want a daughter.

A week after his daughter was born, Miranda left. From that day onwards, everything else connected with Miranda Sommers Gilbert had been removed from the house at Grayson's instructions.

Beyond that, John knew little except that Grayson hardly saw his daughter all these years. But now Grayson had left Gilbert & Company to Miranda's daughter.

 _Gilbert & Company is my world, Grayson. It is my creation. I'm the one who make the Gilbert name a legend in the pharmaceutical world, and how do you repay me? You plan to betray me._

A woman behind him blew her nose. John turned his attention back to the minister, who was concluding the service.

"Grayson left this world unexpectedly but he had contributed a lot to the society," the minister concluded. "His family and friends will miss him, but they can take satisfaction in knowing that Grayson lived his life the way he wished."

John gazed at the urn. The image of Miranda Sommers pregnant with Grayson's child kept intruding. He had never met his niece but he was certain he didn't like her.

 _Grayson, you son of a bitch, how could you do this to me?_

x x x

"Let us all observe a moment of silence as we wish Grayson Gilbert rest in peace." The minister bowed his head, and everyone else followed suit.

When Richard Lockwood looked up again, he saw the minister hand the urn to John. The small group in the pews rose and started down the aisle towards the front of the small church. He paused to talk to a couple of the other mourners.

Logan Fell, one of the board of directors ambled over. "Hello, Richard. Glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't have missed Grayson's funeral for the world," Richard said dryly.

Gilbert & Company was in the middle of a very important business negotiation. A lot of money was on the line. Whenever money was involved, there would be feud. It was amazing how often the two tended to go together.

"Have you heard?" Logan inquired.

"Heard?"

"I'm sure you know by now that discovering that Grayson had chosen an heir came as a shock," Logan said.

"I was more than a little stunned myself," Richard said. "But I was a good deal more shocked by Grayson's death."

"I agree," Logan said. "Who would have guessed he would die so suddenly?"

Richard was frowning. "The merger offer is on the table but John doesn't seem to be interested."

"I heard about it," Logan said. "John is obsessed with the company. He won't let go easily."

"The board is deeply divided on the wisdom of going through with the merger," Richard said. "Grayson was the one who held the deciding shares."

"There is a lot of tension in the board—always has been. The merger offer is bringing things to the surface. Grayson's sudden death and finding out that his shares went to someone has added another level of complexity."

"Any idea who is the chosen heir?" Richard asked.

"Grayson had fathered a child when he was married years ago. A daughter."

"Do you think we can persuade her?"

"But John will still oppose to the merger for sentimental reasons. Gilbert & Company is his creation. He built it from the ground up together with Grayson. I'm afraid he won't be easily persuaded."

"He is a stubborn man. The merger isn't going to do any harm," Richard said. "Everyone in the board will walk away with a very nice profit. We are talking multimillion-dollar payouts for each stockholder."

"Maybe we can encourage her to sell."

Richard looked at him. "What are you suggesting?"

"We both know there is a lot of money involved here. Those shares that Grayson's daughter inherited represent a controlling interest in Gilbert & Company A man would have to be a fool not to be aware that she could be a very wealthy woman if she decides to sell those shares."

"So?"

"So both of us can offer to buy her shares," Logan said evenly. "She can name her own price."

Richard kept quiet briefly before he managed a chuckle. "If she sells those shares, then we will have the deciding shares and we can push forward for the merger to happen."

"Now I'm just hoping Grayson's daughter won't be stubborn like John."

"If she has any sense, she will sell," Richard said. "Never could understand why John wants to hang on to the company."

x x x

Mikael Mikaleson felt like a vulture standing inside the church. The obsidian-tinted sunglasses he wore seemed to be unnecessary, but he did not remove them. He had discovered a long time ago that dark glasses were one more way of keeping a safe distance between himself and other people.

It was falling apart.

The carefully conceived plan was going to crash and burn, Mikael thought. Hell.

 _We had a deal, Grayson. I trusted you. Gilbert & Company was supposed to be mine. Why the hell did you have to go and die on me?_

He was willing to concede that Grayson probably had not intentionally collapsed from a heart attack before going ahead with the merger as he had promised to do. Now he had to find a way to make sure the merger would go ahead.

He needed to think. He needed breathing room, a little time to calm the rage that burned inside him.

The solemn service did not last long. When the final prayers had been spoken, Mikael turned and started back towards the exit.

"Your plan won't work."

The voice came from behind and a few yards off. Ellis halted and looked back over his shoulder. John Gilbert was approaching swiftly across the room.

Mikael's brows snapped together. "Don't try to do something crazy, John."

"The merger won't happen." John's face was splotchy with rage. "I won't let you take control of my company."

Mikael smiled coldly. "You don't deserve to take the helm of Gilbert & Company. You are too weak to run the business."

John glared at him. "Shut your damn mouth."

"You know what? You are as dump as your brother," Mikael said. "I don't like the idea of anyone interfering in my business."

"Get out of here," John snarled. "Get out!"

Mikael ignored him. "I'm sorry about your brother."

Mikael got inside his Mercedes and then he reached for his phone. His son Elijah answered on the second ring.

"We have got a problem," Mikael said impatiently.

"What kind of problem?"

"Grayson had a daughter."

"What?"

"She will inherit all those shares."

There was a brief silence.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to find out who is she. I want to know everything there is to know about her."

"Done."

x x x

A funeral always made for a bad day.

That was what Isobel Fleming had believed.

"May God in his infinite mercy grant to Grayson's family and friends the serenity and peace of mind that can only come from the sure and certain knowledge that their loved one is at last in a safe harbour…"

She kept apart from the crowd of mourners, occupying her own private space. She didn't feel like talking to anyone although she had recognised all the faces. She had been Grayson's secretary for the past ten years. They had been an ideal match he very first day she had arrived at his office. Within a week, she had realized that like her, Grayson Gilbert could work at a ceaseless, killing pace without ever wearing out or wearing down. He had recognized the hunger in her.

"You are like me," Grayson had said. "We want to own the world. And one day we will."

But there was something else about Grayson. He made her laugh, he made her come alive. She had let Grayson know in subtle, ancient ways that she was available to bring him whatever pleasures he wished, whenever he desired them, but Grayson was not interested.

From the start, he had explained to Isobel the same thing he explained to every woman he got involved with: he didn't do relationships. And because he really liked her and didn't want to lose her, he would not jeopardise their relationship by sleeping with her.

Isobel knew she should be angry with Grayson but she wasn't. In fact, she had a lot of respect for him because she knew he had respected her and he didn't treat her like any other women he had come across.

She realized that Grayson was wrong for her, that it was out of the question for him to marry her. And yet she was still obsessed with him. She was happy when she was with him and she was willing to be there for him whenever Grayson needed her.

Now, for the first time, Isobel allowed her thoughts to go to what she had been pushing away from her consciousness, what she had been trying to avoid thinking about: Grayson's death. She had to focus on something more important now.

Grayson's daughter. She was Grayson's only heir.

Grayson had told her that his daughter was a special woman, with her mother's beauty and his intelligence and spirit. Isobel knew Grayson must love his daughter very much and she would do her best to help his daughter with Gilbert & Company.

Later that night, Isobel lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. And the pain came.

And so she lay there, all night, thinking of nothing, thinking of everything, remembering, and feeling. She laughed, and she cried, and she supposed that she was in a state of hysteria. It did not matter. There was no one to hear her.

Nothing could ease the pain that filled her. She felt as though all her nerve ends were on fire. Her mind kept going back, back over the years with Grayson.

Sometime later, the phone rang, and her heart leaped and she reached for it, thinking, _It is Grayson!_ Then she remembered, and snatched her hand away.

He would never call her again. She would never hear his voice again. She would never see him again.

x x x

He was seated in the dark, alone, behind the desk of his office. His waiting had the patience of a hunter, the quiet stillness of a man in control of his body and his emotions. He was a blonde, with the dark, stormy good looks of his ancestors. He had short blonde hair and a strong face, and quick intelligent eyes that were blue. He was over six feet tall, with the lean muscular body of a man who kept himself in good physical condition.

Wes Maxfield had the business side of his life nailed down. He was the top restaurant and nightclub owner in Richmond—but also the ruthless and powerful—owner of the underground drug industry in the State of Virginia. He planned to take on the big four scenes in the drug industry: New York, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Miami. With the assistance of Grayson Gilbert, there was no shortage of drugs.

Of course, there was the small problem that what Grayson was doing for him was illegal. But Wes had never been afraid to bend the rules when it came to business—in fact, some would claim that he was downright ruthless—and in his opinion, the payoff was worth skirting around a few federal laws. The way he saw it, the world was his oyster, and he planned to slurp it down with a bone-dry Sancerre.

Wes had first met Grayson Gilbert when Grayson was still in university. Grayson was brilliant and innovative. He had never met someone like Grayson.

"You are a drug genius," Wes had informed him. "That's why two of us have to stick together."

Grayson had challenged him. "Suppose I don't want to stay?"

Wes had smiled and said confidently, "You will want to stay. You and I have something in common, Grayson. We are both ambitious. We want to own the world. I'm going to show you how."

And they did. Money was running in like crazy.

He and Grayson were perfect partners.

So, why had Grayson done this stupid, stupid thing? Wes didn't understand.

Grayson didn't plan to continue their working relationship indefinitely. And Wes didn't like it.

Nobody messed with Wes Maxfield. It wasn't the smartest move in the playbook. Wes was always in control. He was the one guy Grayson shouldn't try manipulating. He could control Grayson the same way he controlled the others who circled around him. Grayson should have never walked out on him.

In fact, it was a dump move.

* * *

 **Writing this chapter is a real challenge. It took me about five days before I was happy to post it this morning. I am sorry there isn't Delena in this chapter but there will be some exciting DE moments soon. Thank you again to my readers who have been so supportive.**


	5. Chapter 5

When Damon felt he had covered enough distance for it to be safe to stop, he pulled off the highway onto a rutted track that led into a dense thicket. He cut the engine and turned off the headlights. For what he needed to do, he would use the flashlight on his phone, which was new. Only he had the number.

He shone the flashlight over the seat to check on Elena Gilbert. Best as he could tell, she was still out cold and hadn't moved since he had placed her in the backseat. But she wouldn't be unconscious forever, and he had to prepare for that inevitability.

He got out, retrieved what he needed from the trunk, then opened the backseat door and placed his phone on the floorboard to provide him light.

She was as limp as a dishrag, making it easy for him to reposition her arms and legs. Once, she murmured something unintelligible, and he suspended what he was doing until he was certain that she wasn't about to wake up. The longer she was out, the better for him.

Better for her, too.

But she didn't come around, so, moving quickly, he removed her sandals, cursing the dainty buckles on the straps, then efficiently secured her feet and hands. He was backing out of the door, when he paused to brush a strand of hair off her cheek. That was when he noticed the blood spatters on her face.

"Damn." She would freak. He debated, then decided that taking a couple extra minutes wouldn't matter.

When he had finished everything he needed to do, he gently closed the backseat door and the trunk and got back into the driver's seat. Her and Trevor's cell phones were lying in the passenger seat where he had tossed them as he made his getaway from the bar.

He started with hers and was relieved to see that it was getting a cell signal. He accessed the log of recent calls and scrolled through it rapidly, scanning the calls she had made or received throughout the day today and for the past several days. All the names were listed in her Contacts. Nothing was noteworthy.

Turning his head, he thoughtfully watched her sleeping form for several moments. Then he shut her phone down, removed the battery from it, and placed both in the glove compartment.

He picked up Trevor's phone, accessed the Recent calls and knew the Caller Unknown belonged to The Boss. He would be standing by, waiting to hear "Mission accomplished" from Trevor.

"Too bad, asshole," Damon whispered. "You are dealing with me now." He removed the battery from Trevor's phone, and locked it in the glove box along with Elena's. Now feeling the pressure of time, he started the car.

As he pulled onto the dark and deserted highway, he thought back over the evening. It hadn't gone as he had thought it would, but had actually turned out far better than anticipated. He had come away with the primo prize. She lay unconscious in his backseat.

x x x

One week earlier, Damon was on the porch of the small cottage in Mystic Falls, tilted back in a wooden chair that was propped on its two rear legs. The heels of his running shoes were stacked on the railing. He was sipping his bourbon in the small glass he held when his cell phone vibrated.

Damon answered his phone with a laconic tone. "Yeah?"

A gravelly voice said, "You know who this is?"

Trevor Bolden.

Damon had spent months trying to win enough trust to be granted an interview with the hit man. Bolden finally agreed to a meeting with Damon, during which both were watchful and wary…of their surroundings, surely, but mostly of each other. In carefully coded language, Damon had provided Trevor with his résumé and the extent of his experience in their unique field of endeavour.

Something, maybe his subtlety and disinclination to boast, had convinced Trevor that Damon was competent. At the conclusion of their coffee date, Trevor said he would be in touch should the need for Damon's services ever arise. That had been six months ago. Damon had almost given up hope of hearing from him.

"You still want a job?"

"Yes," he said into the phone. "One-man show/"

"You partner with me."

"Must be a special gig."

"You want it or not?"

"What is the split?"

"Fifty-fifty."

You couldn't get fairer than that, Damon thought. "When do you need me?"

"Next Friday."

"Deal."

"We will talk when we meet," Trevor said.

"Fine."

He'd had a hundred more questions for Trevor Bolden, but, the opportunity being too good to pass up, and figuring he would get the details of the contract soon enough, he had put his curiosity on hold and told the man that he could count on him.

He and Trevor had rendezvoused on Wednesday night and they had spent the day reconnoitring and developing a strategy for how best to go about killing Elena Gilbert, the daughter of Grayson Gilbert.

Damon had expressed surprise when Trevor showed him their target the day before.

"You know her?" Trevor had asked.

"No." He had lied.

 _I don't know her. But I remember her,_ Damon thought. He had encountered her on only one occasion – six months ago when he was in Richmond. He had taken one look into her brown doe eyes and he knew he wasn't likely to forget her.

He and Trevor had followed Elena Gilbert around town as she ran mundane errands the following day. Trevor seemed to know a lot about her and by the end of the day, Trevor outlined a plan of attack.

"Why tomorrow?" He questioned the expediency of the hit. What was the hurry? He wondered.

"Why not?"

"Seems rushed. I figured we would watch her for a few more days, get a better feel for her routine, then pick the best place and time."

"The boss has picked our time," Trevor said as he took a sip of his beer. "And the customer is always right. He wants it done tomorrow, we do it tomorrow."

"He is under a deadline?"

"Looks like."

"Okay. Where?"

"Her place."

"Robbery gone wrong."

Trevor grinned. "Exactly."

Damon had done a lot of robberies gone wrong. They were even better than tragic accidents because accidents would get investigated and there would be hell to pay if you didn't make everything look exactly right.

They continued to watch her on Friday. It seemed that Elena Gilbert and her friends would always go to the popular bar near Richmond Community Hospital on Friday after work. They waited at the bar and by five minutes before six that evening, Elena and two women walked into the bar.

He had tried to pay close attention to Trevor's plan, but it was hard to ignore the shivery little thrills of awareness that were lifting the hair on the nape of his neck. He'd had his share of women. Some would say more than his share.

But Elena Gilbert was somehow different.

What he hadn't anticipated was the heat lightning of sexual awareness that had crackled through him when he saw her photo. Every time he glanced at the photo he had wondered what it would be like to have a real claim on her. It was as if some elemental force deep inside him was stirring. That was not good for a professional. He had enough to deal with at the moment. He definitely should not be thinking about sleeping with her because she was their target. It was not smart to mix business with pleasure.

He sure as hell shouldn't be wasting time trying to figure out what it was that attracted him to her, either. But what had kicked him in the gut when he first met her six months ago was the way she had looked at him. Maybe he had scared her. Not that she looked frightened, he thought. If anything, she appeared interested, maybe curious. Intrigued.

Interested, curious and intrigued didn't begin to describe his reaction to her. He realized then that if he had simply passed her on the street, not knowing who she was, he would have looked twice. Make that three times. Turned around maybe. Followed her? Tried to introduce himself?

Oh, damn. This was not good. He did not need this kind of distraction. Not now. He should be concentrating on keeping her alive. These were the priorities now.

* * *

 **I hope my readers will enjoy this chapter. I promise there will be Delena in the next chapter - trust me, I'm working on it really hard! Thank you for being so supportive and please bear with me. I don't like slow update myself but I want to make this good...  
**


	6. Chapter 6

Elena ached all over and her head was throbbing. After waking up and assessing her situation as best she could without opening her eyes, she had determined that she was lying on the backseat of a traveling vehicle with her hands and feet bound.

Moving incrementally and as silently as possible, she had discovered that if she extended her legs just so, she could reach the backseat door with her bare feet. With increasing frustration and muscle strain, she had been covertly trying to lift the lever with her toes, all the while thinking that her abductor was oblivious.

Knowing now that he was on to her, and more than likely had been all along, despair, fear, and anger coalesced into a moan.

After coming to, and as soon as some of the residual fuzziness had cleared from her head, she had realized that this wasn't her car. Her cheek was resting on cloth upholstery. The familiar texture and smell of her car's leather seats would have provided her with a small measure of security, but, as it was, this car was as unknown to her as the driver, their whereabouts, and their destination.

No longer needing to pretend to be unconscious, she opened her eyes and blinked them into focus. She had only the dashboard's glow for illumination. No city lights shone through the backseat window. There were no lighted signposts or overpasses indicating that they were on a major highway, no headlight beams coming from the opposite direction. She could see nothing beyond the window glass except black sky and a sprinkling of stars.

Which was as good a view as any to let her try and block the mental images of the man aiming a pistol at her forehead, then of his facial features disintegrating, his hard fall to the ground, his blood spreading toward her feet as rapidly and darkly as spilled ink.

She remembered staring into a pistol at point-blank range and hearing the second man say, _My money just doubled_.

Upon waking, her first thought had been amazement that she was still alive.

Rather than shoot her, the second man must have knocked her unconscious, perhaps with the sound suppressor on his pistol, and abducted her from the scene of the brutal murder that she had witnessed him commit. Leaving her now to wonder why he hadn't also killed her.

She didn't understand. Who was he? Why her? Ransom? But the first man had wanted to kill her. So why had the second man kept her alive?

Speculation on his motives brought on a surge of panic and, because stealth was no longer necessary, she began struggling to free her hands. They were restrained at the small of her back by something thin but incredibly strong that bit into her flesh. Her efforts to get loose grew more frantic.

"Cut it out."

The unexpected command from the driver's seat startled her, and for a moment she lay perfectly still.

She recognised his voice. She had heard his voice before.

Any sudden movement of her head caused the throbbing to sharpen, so now she gingerly angled it in order to get a clearer view of him. Above the driver's-seat headrest, she could see a swirl of hair on the crown of his head. She remembered it being long and untidy. It looked darker in the blue ambient light of the dashboard than it had beneath lighting outside the bar.

When she had left the bar, the parking lot had been dark and, she had thought, deserted. Rushing footsteps over gravel had alerted her to the approach of her two attackers. In the nanosecond between her spinning around and the pistol being fired, she had recognized both from having seen them in the bar when she walked into the bar: the ugly man who hadn't made any kind of memorable impression on her; and him, who had.

He looked familiar. She should recognise the face. Putting a name to it took a moment longer, but finally one emerged from distant memory.

He was the stranger in the alley. He was the stranger who killed the Strangler.

Identifying him didn't allay her fear. What did he want from her? Was he afraid she would tell the cops about him killing the Strangler and therefore he was here to kill her? Or was this a completely random abduction?

She moistened her lips. Or tried. Her tongue and mouth were dry. When she tried to speak, her voice was a croak. "Who are you? What do you want?"

For all the response she got, he could have been deaf.

"Do you have a destination in mind, or are we just putting distance between us and the scene of the crime?"

He remained silent, registering no reaction whatsoever.

"How long was I out?"

Nothing.

"Hours?"

When he still didn't respond, she asked, "Why didn't you kill me?"

Stone silence.

"Your partner wanted to kill me. Why did you stop him?"

"You are worth a lot more if you are alive."

Since he hadn't responded to anything else, she was momentarily taken aback to hear his voice again and even more alarmed when she realized that he had gradually braked. As the car slowed, he steered it into a right turn.

Once they were off the highway, the view through the car window changed. Their headlights danced crazily across overlapping treetops that obscured the view of open sky. For fifty yards or so, rocks knocked against the undercarriage as the car jounced over deep potholes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

Another silence.

He stopped the car, shifted it into Park, and turned to address her through the space between the seats. "Someone wants you dead."

That blunt declaration caused another surge of gorge in her throat.

He cut the engine, switched off the headlights, and got out. The dome light came on when he opened the driver's door. Elena blinked against the sudden glare that shone directly down on her.

He opened the back door and ducked his head inside. She felt the bite of his razor-sharp eyes. The overhead light cast harsh shadows on his face, emphasizing prominent cheekbones and unsmiling lips.

Without saying anything, he closed his fingers around her left ankle. At his touch, she yanked her knees up, freeing her feet from his grasp, and then tried to drive them into his face. He jerked his head back just in time. Her heel barely clipped his chin.

She tried again. He stayed just out of reach. On her third attempt, his hand shot out, grabbed her ankle, and roughly pulled her feet against his chest, where he kept them in place with one hand while, with the other, he picked one of her sandals from off the floorboard and worked her foot into it. He secured the tiny buckle with the same detachment with which he had fired a pistol into the back of his cohort's head.

"You are supposed to kill me, aren't you?"

That cold gaze lifted to meet hers. "Yes."

When both her sandals were on, he backed out of the door and shut it. He went around to the other side and opened the door behind her head. Reaching in, he cupped her underarms and hauled her out.

As soon as he set her on her feet, he turned her to face him. "Don't try any more dumb stunts like trying to kick me."

"Go to hell."

As though she hadn't spoken, he said, "Don't try to run away."

She didn't honour him with a reply, only glared up at him.

"You can't escape, Elena."

Her knees nearly buckled when he spoke her name.

He knew her. Of course, if he had taken her purse when he kidnapped her, he would have read her name on her driver's license and credit card. Right?

"Who are you? Why did you bring me here?"

"Take a wild guess."

"I have no idea. I'm not a celebrity. And I'm not rich."

"You are rich."

"Pardon?"

"Grayson Gilbert is your father."

Elena froze. Her father had prompted this…this whatever it was.

She swallowed. "What did he do to you? Do you want revenge?"

He chuckled. "No."

"Who was he? The man you killed."

"Trevor Bolden. Killer for hire."

"He was hired to kill me?"

He just looked at her.

"Then why didn't you do it on the parking lot? Why did you shoot your buddy? Why am I still alive?"

He pressed his index finger lengthwise against the centre of her lips.

"Stop it."

She stopped, as she had stopped struggling against the hand restraint when he had told her to, more because of the chilling voice in which he had issued the order than because of the order itself.

Her lips held his attention for several moments. Perhaps he was watching them turn white from the pressure he applied. Then gradually he withdrew his finger and his eyes moved back up to hers. "You have asked too many questions, Elena Gilbert."

Again, it was the manner in which he spoke as much as the words themselves that caused a shakeup of her insides. She didn't think he was referring strictly to her questions, and the implication of that paralysed her. By the time she remembered to breathe again, he was crouched in front of her, loosening the bandana from around her ankles.

The instant the knots came undone, she was off like a shot.

She got all of three feet from him before he hooked his arm around her waist and jerked her to a sudden halt, and then spun her around to face him. He was furious. "Don't think you can outsmart, outtalk, or outrun me. You can't. Try and you will only make yourself miserable."

"What…what do you want?"

"Money."

She gulped in a harsh breath. "I…I told you I'm not rich."

"You have billion dollars."

"I don't have billion dollars," she said. It was the same routine virtually every time the subject of money came up.

He lowered his face closer to hers. "But your father had."

It wasn't exactly a secret, however: her father was rich. Okay, extremely rich. One might have certain impressions about her financial status, Elena knew, given her father's financial success. But they were inaccurate. Elena had earned her own way. She was wholly financially independent from her father, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

He gave her a little shove that put space between them. "Besides, you are your father's sole beneficiary. That means that the controlling shares of Gilbert & Company are in your hands."

He grasped her elbow and propelled her slightly ahead of him along the uneven gravel track which was pressed upon from both sides by dense woods. Beyond the dim glow provided by the car's interior light, the surrounding darkness was impenetrable. She picked up the stench of stagnant water, sensed life-forms watching them from nests overhead and from hidey-holes in the underbrush, and felt the ghostly brush of insect wings against her arms and face.

Paralysing fear encroached on her again, as did the teeming darkness. The darkness she could do nothing about, but she must keep the self-defeating fear at bay.

"That's my father money, not mine."

"Nice try but it won't work."

"If you are after money, I will give you everything that is in my bank account," she assured him quickly, daring to let a spark of hope ignite. "All in cash."

He shook his head briefly. "Not interested."

"I will give you my car," she tried desperately.

"Forget it."

They were getting farther away from the car and the weak circle of light it provided. The ground had turned spongy. The heels of her sandals sank into it with each step, making walking difficult. Whenever she stumbled, his hand tightened around her elbow to help her regain her balance, but he never let go and continued to prod her forward.

Keeping her voice as steady as possible, she said, "You will be caught, you know."

"Not anytime soon."

"Why don't you take my offer and disappear? I won't say a word about you."

He looked at her. There was no sensuality in his eyes, neither was there any other emotion she could name. No curiosity, no dislike, no anger, no expectation, no friendliness, no resentment, no humour, nothing. Just the chilling, totally self-contained, non-reflective gleam of a beast of prey. Elena had never seen such a total lack of emotion in another human being in her entire life. In a very real sense it was far more frightening than if the man had simply pulled a gun and aimed it at her.

"Here. Go inside." Suddenly, he steered her off the uneven track and into what appeared to be a cabin.

"Where are we?"

As expected, he didn't answer. Not that he needed to.

Elena glanced around. They were in what appeared to be a cabin with a living area and kitchen combined into one room. She assumed that the open interior doorway led to a bedroom, but it was dark beyond the door. The furniture was old and mismatched, but the place was clean and neat. All the windows were opened. Insects batted against the screens, trying to fly into the light. Beyond the screens, the darkness was absolute, impenetrable, unrelieved by moonlight or man-made lights that she could see.

He took a bottle of water from a vintage refrigerator, uncapped it, and drank thirstily, emptying the entire bottle, which he then tossed into the trash can beneath the sink.

He glanced at her, then got another bottle of water from the fridge and uncapped it as he walked across the room. When he extended the bottle towards her, she recoiled, which caused him to frown.

"Drink."

"I'm fine."

"You will dehydrate."

"I said I'm fine."

"Will you relax?" he said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You already have."

"Does your head hurt?" he asked.

"No."

He began walking toward her and she started backing up. She cried out when he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. "Oh, God, what are you doing?" she whimpered. "Stay away from me!"

Putting his mouth directly above her ear, he whispered, "Relax, Elena." He reached toward the back of her head and dug his fingers into her hair, then tentatively moved them along her scalp until she winced. "You have got a goose egg. I have some painkillers."

"No thank you."

"Look, I told you I'm not going to hurt you. So take the damn—"

"No. Thank. You."

"Fine."

"Can you untie my hands? They are getting numb."

"Fat chance."

He wrapped his hand around her biceps and headed for the bedroom, hauling her along behind him.

"What are you—Wait! You said you wouldn't hurt me."

"It won't hurt. Unless you fight me."

He gave her a light push that sent her stumbling towards the bed. She broke her fall against it but bounced up and dashed towards the door. He hooked his arm around her waist as she ran past him, lifted her against his hip, and carried her to the bed, unceremoniously dumping her onto it.

Being caught at the waist had knocked the breath from her. It took a couple of seconds for her to regain it, and then she was all fight again, kicking at him with all her might. But it was never any real contest. He straddled her thighs to make her thrashing legs ineffectual.

"Calm down, you little hellcat," he grunted as she tried to knee him. He barely managed to deflect die blow, shifting his body so that she was trapped beneath him. "Elena, settle down! This isn't going to do any good and you know it!"

"Go to hell."

"Been already."

Confident that she couldn't do too much damage or go very far in the amount of time it would take him to go through the cabin turning out lights, he did so. When he re-entered the bedroom, she was tugging frantically to free her hands.

"Don't waste your time."

"Damn you! Let me go!"

He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down. That shut her up. She stared at him aghast. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my clothes off, what does it look like?" He toed off his sneakers, stepped out of the jeans, and removed his socks. He unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, pulled it over his head, and tossed it onto the nearest chair. Then he took out another bandana.

"How many of those do you have?"

"They come twelve to a pack."

"What's this one for?"

"Just in case you try to escape."

He was on her before she could figure out what was going on. In seconds, he straddled her again while he wrapped the bandana around her ankles.

She screamed up at him. "Damn you! Damn you! Damn you! Get off me!"

Instead, he stretched out fully, leaving himself less vulnerable by pinning her legs down with his. She was hampered but not defeated. She continued to buck like a colt, trying to throw him off. He lowered his face to within inches of hers, close enough to exchange angry breaths but far enough so they could keep each other in sharp focus.

She was almost totally helpless now, pinned beneath his weight, her hands useless. Her head twisted on the bed, her hair fanning out against the boards, and in the shadows her dark brown eyes flashed fire.

"Elena, just give up, will you? Pack it in, lady, you haven't got a chance!"

"I know," she rasped. "I have also got nothing left to lose."

Something new flickered in the depths of his eyes and then it was gone. "You know what," he told her in a deadly voice, "there are other ways of dealing with a woman."

"Are you threatening to rape me or beat me?" Her only weapon now was her tongue and Elena used it recklessly. She felt driven to taunt and goad him until she could get some kind of human response out of him. If she could find a crack in the seemingly impenetrable wall that surrounded him, perhaps she would have a chance of escaping.

Or perhaps she would find there was simply nothing beneath that barrier except more of the same unnaturally cold, hard maleness that seemed to assault her senses.

"Which would you prefer?" he retorted brutally. "Would you rather be raped or beaten into submission?"

"There is no real choice, is there?" she hissed scornfully. "You will have to beat me into submission because you are incapable of raping me!"

"Damn it to hell, woman!"

"It's true, isn't it? Even rape takes some kind of emotion. Hatred, sadism, a sick kind of passion, something! You don't have any emotions that run that deep, do you? Not even old-fashioned, garden-variety lust!"

Suddenly the dark eyes of the hunting bird gleamed dangerously in the moonlight. Elena felt him go very still above her, his body tight with a new kind of tension. She held her breath, knowing she had pushed him much too far and knowing, too, that she'd had no choice.

"Do you know what you are doing?" he whispered harshly.

Elena felt as if she were caught up in the talons of a bird of prey but her eyes never left his. "So it is going to be the beating, is it? I thought so. When was the last time you went to bed with a woman? I will bet it has been years! Tell me, do you make love to…"

The words were cut off in her throat as his head swooped down toward hers. She had only time enough to read the glittering fury in his eyes, time enough to realize that at least she had sparked some kind of emotion in him and then his mouth was on hers in savage conquest.

The impact of the brutal kiss washed through her body like a crashing wave. It was far more than Elena had bargained for, even in her desperation to goad him into some kind of response. She lay passively beneath the assault, unable even to drag her mouth free of his.

She had never known anything like it before in her whole life. There was no finesse, no pretence at romance, no hint of tenderness. The kiss could not even be described as passionate. It was overwhelming and devastating, a primitive attempt by a man to dominate a woman in the most fundamental sense. His mouth moved on hers with feral intent, forcing apart her lips. When she instinctively tried to close her teeth against the invasion of his tongue, he used his thumb and forefinger on her jaw to pry open her mouth. Then he was inside, swamping her senses, exploring and conquering every corner.

The faint moan of protest and newfound fear which emanated from deep in her throat went unheeded. His free hand slid roughly down her throat to find her breast and closed over the gentle curve of it. She trembled violently beneath the onslaught, terrified at what she had unleashed.

His legs slid between hers, pushing her thighs apart in a gesture that left her feeling ravished even though she was still dressed. Crushed as she was against the unyielding bed, Elena began to panic. The tremors coursing through her were uncontrollable. Tears seeped into her eyes and she closed them tightly.

It was the ripple of small, violent shivers in her body that finally got through to him. He sensed the fear as if it were a tangible presence emanating from her and her total vulnerability finally registered in his raging mind.

What was she doing to him? What in God's name had he allowed her to do to him? And what the hell was the matter with him that he had gone off the deep end like this?

The fury surging through him didn't disintegrate, but his normal iron control finally began to reassert itself. He fought back the waves of enraged desire that were still pouring through his body, breathing heavily with the effort. One hand closed into a tight, hard fist of frustration and anger. He wrenched his mouth from her and stared down at the lips he had bruised with his own.

Such a soft mouth. It had been one of the first things he had noticed about her. That gentle mouth and those huge dark brown doe eyes had haunted him for the past six months. It was unprofessional. He should be remaining detached and indifferent and he was anything but. He was losing himself in this woman. He needed to back away and get some space, so that this could go back to being just another job.

He swore softly, violently. "Goading me will not work. I do not respond to taunts or dares."

Her eyes slitted open and he saw the trace of tears in their brown depths as she watched him with the expression of a trapped animal. He could see the remains of genuine fear in her eyes.

"Go to sleep," he said as he lay down on the bed, adjusting the pillow and the tattered blanket across the small expanse of space separating them he watched her turned onto her side, facing the opposite direction.

Huskily, she asked, "Who…who are you?" She hesitated, cleared her throat, tried again. "I don't even know your name."

He lay still for several moments before answering, "Damon Salvatore."

* * *

 **As promised, this whole chapter is about Delena. I hope my readers will enjoy this chapter as much as I do. Writing this story is a challenging task. Hopefully I have done enough in this chapter to bring out the dynamics and chemistry of Delena. Sorry for the slow update, I will try my best to write as many chapters as possible!**


	7. Chapter 7

Almost immediately upon waking, Elena realized that she was alone.

Remembering where she was, she rolled onto her back and came up on her elbows. Daylight did little to enhance the room. It was small, accommodating only the bed, a chair, and a TV tray that served as a nightstand, on which was a gooseneck reading lamp. In the corner was a large bureau with six deep drawers.

The room had no charm except for the patterned quilt covering her legs and feet. It appeared to have been hand stitched, and the fabric remnants from which it was made were colour coordinated.

Her hands were free. She pushed off the quilt and got out of bed. She pushed aside a muslin curtain and was disheartened to see nothing except cottony fog beyond the windowpanes.

 _Where is this place?_

The door to the living area was closed, but through it she could smell fresh coffee. The aroma made her mouth water. After using the bathroom, she hesitantly opened the bedroom door. He was checking the view from the window.

Sensing her presence, he turned. As they continued to look at each other, she wondered about his level of hostility this morning.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"You are committing a crime, you know."

"I haven't laid a hand on you, honey."

"You kidnap me!" she snapped.

Damon said nothing but he made his way across the small room where the electric hot plate sat on a shelf. He opened the refrigerator. "I assume you are hungry."

"Why haven't you killed me?"

"Told you."

"Tell me why you are holding me here."

"Told you." He turned on the hot plate, set a skillet on it, and began lining up strips of bacon in the skillet. "Don't try to escape. You won't succeed, honey."

She lifted her chin and said with defiance, "I will think of something."

He merely shrugged, removed the bacon from the skillet and poured the eggs into it, then put two slices of bread into a dented, rusty toaster. His motions were economical, like this was his daily routine.

"Look," she began carefully, "you are doing this for money, aren't you? I do have saving and I will give you everything in cash if you let me go. I won't mention you to anyone."

"I have told you, I'm going to do the job I was hired to do!" he snapped. Didn't the woman ever give up?

"I will give you the money up front. Today," she said. "Think about it."

"What is it with you, lady? You have tried just about everything. Bribery and sex."

"I didn't try sex!" Elena didn't know why she felt obliged to clarify that point. The desperate wish to provoke some sort of identifiable male reaction in him hadn't been a thought-out plan. It had been an instinctive, intuitive action which had nearly backfired. "And you needn't worry that I will try that tactic anymore if you take my offer."

"No."

"You are keeping me here against my will!" she almost yelled at him.

Damon turned around, advanced on her and bent down to bring his face almost on a level with hers. Speaking in a rasp more sinister than a shout, he said, "I'm not keeping you in, Elena." He hitched his chin towards the door. "I'm keeping them out."

x x x

FBI Special Agent Alaric Saltzman was just about to sit down to a meal of scramble egg and sausages when his cell phone rang.

His wife, Jo, frowned. She'd had to wake up early to make breakfast for him, because he had come home too late to eat with her and the kids last night. But she knew better than to object when he said, "Sorry, honey, I need to take it," and clicked on his phone. "Is this important, Tanner? I'm sitting down to eat my breakfast."

"Hate to interrupt," Agent Tanner Hickam said, sounding earnest. "But, yes, it is important. Knew you would want to hear it ASAP."

Giving Jo an apologetic look, Alaric stepped into the utility room. "Okay, I'm listening."

"Last night, Trevor Bolden was found dead in Richmond, at a parking lot of a popular bar close to Richmond Community Hospital."

And just like that, a hot breakfast was no longer in Alaric's immediate future.

He dragged his hand down his face, over his mouth, past his chin. "I don't suppose there could be more than one Trevor Bolden."

"Probably, but this is the one we know and love. Loved."

"Clarify 'found dead.' I'm guessing he didn't pass peacefully in his sleep."

"Hollow tip fired into the back of his head. Blew most of his face off."

"Then how do they know it's him?"

"Driver's license in his wallet was phony, but the ME fingerprinted the corpse."

Trevor Bolden was the wingman of the notorious but powerful Wes Maxfield, the owner of the largest underground drug syndicates in Richmond. For years, Wes Maxfield had run the largest drug syndicate in Richmond—his organization was responsible for nearly one-third of all drug trafficking in the city, and his people extorted, bribed, threatened, and killed anyone who stood in their way. Over the last few years, the FBI had been investigating his criminal organisation and they had begun to realize that the scope of Maxfield's illegal activity is far wider than they had suspected. Like his connections to Grayson Gilbert.

"The Jewels", the so-called energy drinks were gaining popularity in the shadowy night clubs and discos in recent years. Rumours had that "The Jewels" sold by the Maxfield's gang were supplied Grayson Gilbert but of course, there was no proof to warrant an arrest.

"What was Bolden doing there?" Alaric asked.

"A woman went miss on the premises when Bolden was killed."

"Meaning?"

"Elena Gilbert has gone missing."

"Say again?"

"Elena Gilbert—"

"Never mind. I heard you the first time. Who is she?"

"The daughter of Grayson Gilbert."

There was a brief silence.

"Wait, you said Grayson Gilbert," Alaric said finally. "The president of Gilbert & Company?"

"Yes. His daughter and Bolden were in the bar at the same time."

"Together?"

"No. But they left within minutes of each other, she a few after him. But, here's the clincher—her SUV is still in the parking lot. Trevor was about three feet away from it when he was popped."

Alaric didn't have a clue. "I'm missing pieces. Fill me in."

"Grayson Gilbert died suddenly two weeks ago from a heart attack. Rumours circulated that his brother John Gilbert would take over his place."

"But John Gilbert isn't. Am I right?"

"Yes. Elena Gilbert is the heir chosen apparently."

"Ah. I got it. Ransom?"

"Don't think so. It doesn't explain why Bolden got shot."

"True." He paused. "Are you sure she has gone missing?"

"The bar was where she was last seen. Nobody at her condo or the hospital where she normally works. Her condo is locked up tight. Nothing disturbed in either. Security alarms still set."

"Damn."

"There was another guy with Bolden in the bar."

"Bolden had a friend?"

"Inconceivable, I know. But the two came in together, had a couple of drinks, looked simpatico. No cross words, no bad vibes. Nothing like that. They didn't engage anyone else in conversation and left together. But if the guy shot Bolden's face off, I guess they weren't that close of friends." Tanner paused and took a breath. "That is where we are, and that is why I interrupted your breakfast. Tell Jo I'm sorry."

"Has the scene been secured?"

"Yes."

"I will meet you there soon."

x x x

"I don't believe you," Elena said bitterly as she sank into the chair opposite Damon. "I don't trust you."

With supreme unconcern, Damon continued to eat his bacon and egg. "You don't have to trust me, sweetheart. Just like I don't trust anyone."

She was just gearing up to inform him that she didn't particularly appreciate sexist endearments like "sweetheart" or "honey" when he met her eyes across the short expanse of the table. His mouth curved slightly. "You don't like bacon and egg?"

The breakfast smelled delicious, but she didn't dig in. She helped herself to a single slice of toast burnt black around the edges and soggy with butter in the centre. "Just toast is enough for me."

"Up to you." His reply was short and curt.

They ate in silence. Elena nibbled on her toast, and Damon cleaned his plate with the healthy appetite of a man used to his own cooking. He was half way through his eggs when she broached the subject that had been in her mind the whole night.

"How much are you going to ask for?"

"None of your business."

"My life isn't any of my business?"

"Not the price tag on it."

Elena made a small, disgusted sound and took another bite of her toast. "This has something to do with my father, hasn't it?"

"You love your father?"

The unexpected question snapped her gaze back up to his. "Why do you ask?"

"Just answer me."

"It is complicated," she replied in annoyance.

"Because he divorced your mother after you were born?"

Elena narrowed her eyes. "You spy on me."

"Not so much spying as plotting how we were going to…you know."

"You were formulating plan A. What was plan A?"

"Doesn't matter. It got scrubbed. Back to your father—how was your relationship with your father?"

"Why do you care?"

"Stop answering every question with a question."

"Then stop asking me questions."

"You don't like my questions?"

"I don't like your prying. Or is delving into the background of your victims part of your MO?"

"My MO?" That amused him. "I guess you watch some TV."

He came as close to smiling as she had seen, but it didn't soften his mouth or any other feature. If anything, it emphasized the harsh angularity of his face.

Nor did the semi smile last. It faded as he tilted his head to one side and studied her, and then said, "I want to know why the subject of your father makes you twitchy and defensive."

"It doesn't."

He merely looked at her with an unflinching, I-know-better gaze.

After an interminable length of time, she relented, put down her unfinished toast on the plate, and released a long sigh. "When I was younger, I had even dared to hope my father would come home one day and remarry my mother. That little fantasy, had of course, never happened."

"What did you know about Gilbert & Company?" he asked.

"We have had this conversation before. That's my father's company, not mine."

"You are his daughter."

"I'm a doctor and I love being a doctor." There was obvious pride in her voice. Of course, she didn't make anywhere her father would earn, but she considered she had done well for herself on her own merit. She had managed to save enough for a down payment for her condo and also to get a car.

"But your father had billion dollars."

"That's my father money, not mine," she said indignantly.

Damon sized her up. "I bet he was extravagant with gifts. Diamonds? Sport cars?"

Elena folded her arms across her chest, on the defensive. "You are way off base with these assumptions about me."

Damon shrugged. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, princess."

Her jaw tightened. "Listen, I don't know who you are, or where you came from, but nobody is calling anybody a princess around here."

"Mystic Falls."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm from Mystic Falls." The edges of Damon's lips curled up in a grin. "Your majesty."

Elena glared at him. "Asshole."

"Now, tell me about Gilbert & Company."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because, Elena, your company just might save you and your saucy ass."

Ignoring the remark, she pounced on the substance of what he had said. "How?"

"At some point during our long drive—"

"You were going in circles the entire time, weren't you?"

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

Subdued by his sharp tone, she fell silent and gave a small nod.

"Here's where your life does become your business. Because somewhere between midnight and dawn, it occurred to me that you might be more valuable alive than dead."

She blinked. "You aren't going to kill me?"

"I have told you that you worth a lot more if you are alive," Damon said. "I only told you that to keep you…cooperative."

"Terrified."

"Then it worked."

Her cheeks turned hot with anger and embarrassment over being so gullible. But assuming he was being at least partially truthful, she asked, "Who wants me dead?"

His blue-grey eyes held hers. "You have no idea?"

She shook her head.

"Maybe it is better this way."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why do I think there is something you are not telling me?"

He finished drinking his coffee and sat the mug down on the table. "Ever heard of the so-called energy drinks 'The Jewels'?"

Elena blinked. He could switch topics quickly. "Energy drinks?"

"The so-called energy drinks are actually date-rape drugs," he said. "You can find them in most shadowy night clubs and disco. They are getting popular in recent years."

"Oh."

He gave her a few seconds to absorb that and then he continued, "There is a lot of money involved."

There was a pause, and he saw the stiffening in Elena's posture the moment she clued in.

"First you asked me about my relationship with my father, then you talked about his money and his company. And now you bring up these so-called energy drinks. What is this about?" she asked.

Damon folded his arms on the table. "Rumours circulated that 'The Jewels' are produced by Gilbert & Company."

Elena stilled. When she realized she was breathing through her mouth, she pressed her lips closed, but her respiration remained unsteady as she processed Damon's words.

"You seem surprised," Damon said.

She shot him a look. "You are lying. Why should I take your word for anything?"

"This isn't a lie."

"No? Tell me something that will convince me it is the truth."

"Your heart is still beating." He stated it without pause or contemplation. A simple fact.

"You are wrong," she said. "My father would never get mix up in anything like this."

"Everyone knows it. Grayson Gilbert with his tailored suits and the glibness of a snake oil salesman."

Angrily, she stood up and glared at him. "My father wouldn't do anything like this!"

"Fine. So answer me this," he said as he rose. "If he wasn't involved in drugs, why did someone want you dead?"

"I don't know. Maybe he…he…" She came up empty.

"Hmm? What was that?" He gave her another moment to contribute something, and when she didn't, he said, "Trevor told me someone desperately wanted to kill you. Do you know what I think, Miss Gilbert?"

"No."

"I'm almost positive that your father's death is connected to 'The Jewels'."

Elena went still. "I was told my father died of a heart attack."

"When drugs are involved, there is always someone around who is happy to kill someone else. It is just part of the business."

"Who are you?" Elena demanded. Her entire body went rigid, her already amped-up adrenaline skyrocketing. "What did you know about my father's death? Did you kill him?"

"I didn't kill him, Elena." He didn't take his eyes off her. "Someone did."

* * *

 **Sorry for the slow update. I'm trying to make sure this chapter is good enough before I post it and I hope you gals/guys will enjoy reading it. Once again, there is Delena in this chapter (as promised). Some of you are wondering whether what kind of person Damon really is? Is he a good person? Or is he after something? Keep on reading and you will find the answer:)  
**


	8. Chapter 8

When Elena checked the view from the window an hour later, she was very disappointed to see that the mist had not dissipated. If anything, it was thicker than ever. "It is hopeless out there."

Damon came to stand behind her. Her peered over her shoulder. "It looks like luck is with me today."

"Not funny." She turned her head to glare at him. Which was a mistake. Because it brought her face so close to his they were almost touching.

His smouldering eyes sparked, then dropped their focus to her parted lips. "You sure?"

His whisper had the texture of fine-grade sandpaper. She felt it like a stroke low on her belly, and, for a heartbeat—much too long—every nerve ending sizzled with awareness of him. He was body heat, and tensile strength, raw masculinity and leashed power, and her breathy reaction to all that panicked her.

She averted her head and stepped away. "Yes, this is not funny," she said, her voice husky and lacking the forceful positivity she wished it had. Wished she felt.

He smirked. "You are afraid."

She lied. "No."

"Yes, you are," he said insistently, "because we nearly lip-locked…"

"No way in hell."

He chuckled. "You remember it."

"What?"

"The kiss last night. Sexy as hell?"

"I don't recall it like that," she said irritably.

He pulled her close. "Hell you don't."

Elena's heart began to race faster. "What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

His eyes burned into hers, and there was no mistaking his intentions. "I want to prove you wrong."

She blinked. "What?"

He raised his hand to cup her cheek. "So make this good, sweetheart."

Without another word, his mouth came down on hers.

While his thumb stroked the sensitive underside of her chin, his stern lips pressured hers to separate, and when they did, the sleek glide of his tongue against hers caused an overspill of heat throughout her. Angling his head the other way, he made an even deeper foray into her mouth.

But then he groaned with frustration and raised his head. "You almost got me, Elena."

She jerked her head back and blinked up at him. "What?"

"I almost fell for it."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Hell you don't. Smelling good. Nothing but sexy." He dragged his fingers across the top curve of her breast that swelled in the open collar. "Looking soft and sweet enough to make my mouth water."

He rubbed against her suggestively. "You know what I want, and you thought that if you gave it to me, then I would be placated and would let you go. You had just as well have removed all your clothes and stood naked in front of me."

He made a derisive sound. "I appreciate the gesture. Truly. To say nothing of the view." He angled his head back so he could see down her entire length. "Your tactic won't work."

Angrily, she pushed against his chest and tried to worm out of his grasp.

But he held on and, in fact, yanked her closer, grinding against her thighs with unmistakable implication. "But here is a warning, Elena. You give me another opportunity to put my hands on you, and I'm going to put them all over you. Got it? I'm not going to imagine you naked, I'm going to see you naked. Offer up yourself again, and I will ignore every reason why I shouldn't fuck you."

Later, he wondered what would have happened in the next few seconds, if he hadn't heard a distant sound of the heavy engine lumbering down the drive towards the cabin.

He released Elena and made it to one of the windows in time to see a large vehicle came to a halt. The motor shut down.

In the same instant he saw the vehicle, Elena streaked toward the door. "Shit!" His hand shot out and caught her arm, bringing her up short.

She gave a small cry, but he turned her around, jerked her up hard against him, and clapped his hand over her mouth. "Listen to me. Stay quiet and out of sight."

She wiggled and tried to throw off his hand.

"Goddamn it, listen to me! Those men? You don't want them messing with you. They would hurt you bad. Trust me, please. Okay? I'm serious, Elena. You think I'm a threat, you can't imagine what they would do to you."

Somehow, he got the message across. Her eyes remained wide and fearful, but she stopped struggling.

"Get inside the room and lock the door."

She nodded.

"I'm not bullshitting you. They are bad news. Okay?" She bobbed her head again, and he removed his hand from her mouth. "Don't let them see you."

Moving quickly, he opened the bedroom door and pushed her inside. "Stay where you are."

Fog was so thick now he couldn't see clearly but his instinct told him whoever was inside the vehicle was after Elena. Two shadows appeared. Damon couldn't figure out whether they were armed or not.

He would kill the two if he had to, but he would rather not have to today.

x x x

Someone was here for her.

The awful reality struck Elena.

Someone wanted her dead.

This had something to do with her father.

"The Jewels". This had something to do with those so-called energy drinks.

She tried to slow her frantic breathing. After what had happened to her in the last 24 hours, she would have thought that she had grown immune to such fear but apparently not. Could she trust Damon? Was she going to be safe with him? He could have killed her if he wanted her dead but in fact he didn't. He shot Trevor…

Suddenly a loud crash tore through the silence of the cabin.

Elena froze. What had happened? Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. She should get help, shouldn't she? Oh god! What if Damon had been hit? What if he was bleeding and needed her help?

Another loud crash ripped through the cabin. She clapped a hand over her mouth and scurried to the door. She didn't open it but she pressed her ear to the wood and listened. The sounds of a scuffle met her ears. There were loud grunts and the sound of skin impacting skin. A loud crash and shattering glass made her gasp.

Should she go out and help Damon? But Damon told her to stay inside the room. She tried to focus on the sound of fighting in the bedroom. The brutal noises made her stomach lurch. If Damon was fighting hand-to-hand, maybe he could hold his own but what if there were weapons involved or if he was already hurt…

Something heavy hit the floor. Heavy boots slammed against the wooden planks. Someone was kicking, Elena realized. There was so much grunting and gasping—and then it became eerily quiet.

Elena held her breath and waited. Footsteps sent her rushing back from the door. She prayed it wasn't someone who had broken into the house. A moment later the door opened and she squeaked in fear.

But it was Damon's hulking form that stood silhouetted in the doorway. Elena let loose an anguished, relieved cry as he took a few steps towards her.

"Everything is okay."

"How…how do you know?" she asked nervously.

"Because I know."

"That's not an answer."

He removed his gun from his jacket and she took a step back. Her face paled.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said dryly. "If the need arises, help yourself. Do you know how to shoot?"

She gaped at him. "What?"

"I need to get rid of the bodies."

She was aghast. "You…you killed them?"

He ignored her. "Just stay inside the cabin. I won't be long."

She grabbed his sleeve. "You can't leave me here."

"You are not coming with me."

"Why?"

Her question went unanswered again. He looked at her, then, with a sudden move, closed his hands around her head. He ran his thumb across her lower lip. "Stay out of sight until I'm back. If somebody comes back in place of me, shoot the son of bitch and ask questions later." In one fluid motion, he forcibly moved her aside, opened the door, and left.

x x x

"Lord have mercy," Tanner sighed when they alighted from the sheriff's office patrol car and surveyed the crime scene. "Bad as I expected."

"Worse," Alaric said in response to Tanner's summation of the situation. The two of them ducked beneath the yellow band that was intended to keep people off the parking lot but had been largely ignored. However, most of the trespassers were giving wide berth to the Lexus. He and Tanner made a beeline for it.

Alaric and Tanner exchanged subdued greetings with their colleague who introduced the small man he had been talking to as Dr Something-or-Other, the parish medical examiner. All were wearing gloves, so they didn't shake hands, which was just as well because they would have had to reach across the gulf of chunky, congealing blood between them.

Going straight to business, the ME said, "He is already at the morgue, but when he was identified they called me back out here to talk to you all. I have got pictures of what he looked like when I arrived."

He tapped his iPad screen and held it up so they could see. He flipped through several photos of Trevor Bolden's sizable corpse taken from various angles and distances. None were pretty. Alaric almost felt sorry for the lawless bastard.

Tanner, a devout Catholic, breathed a prayer and crossed himself.

Alaric, who was also Catholic but less devout, said, "No need to ask cause of death."

"He never felt it," the ME said with more dispassion than Alaric would have expected from a man with such a benevolent face.

Alaric pointed to one of the photos on the iPad, specifically to the pistol lying within inches of Trevor's outstretched hand. "Who retrieved his weapon?"

"First responders determined that it hadn't been recently fired," the agent said, "but they left it for the homicide detective to collect."

"Good." Alaric also noticed in the photographs that Trevor's hands were gloved. He asked about those.

"He wore them to the morgue," the ME said. "I bagged them."

"Thanks. We will want the autopsy report as soon as—"

"I know, I know. You fellas never say, 'No rush, Doc. Whenever you can get to it will be just fine.'"

Alaric ignored him. Surveying the immediate area, he noticed a pair of markers that had been left in the gravel. "What was there?"

"Miss Gilbert's purse and key fob," the agent replied. "The detective retrieved them."

Alaric looked wider afield, searching for heel skid marks that would indicate that a scuffle had taken place or that someone—Elena Gilbert—had been dragged away. But there was nothing like that. "No signs of a struggle?"

"What you see is what we have got. We are searching," the agent added. He pointed out a team member who was several yards away, crouched down studying the loose surface of the parking lot. "But the manager, who also tends bar, estimated that when this went down there were at least fifty vehicles in the lot."

Tanner, who noted that only five remained, said, "Must have been quite an exodus."

The agent nodded. "We have got dozens of crisscrossed tire tracks and shoe imprints." He raised his hands at his sides.

"No one saw anything?" Tanner asked.

The agent shook his head. "No one has come forward yet. Someone still might, though."

Alaric asked, "Security cameras?"

The young agent smiled without humour. "Not in the parking lot."

"Am I done here?" the ME asked.

Alaric thanked him and then, mostly out of spite, reminded him that the autopsy report was an important factor to their investigation. Huffing complaints, the pathologist stamped away.

Alaric turned to the young agent again. "Do you have anything useful to tell us?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. The car is registered to Elena Gilbert. It was found unlocked, but all the doors were closed when first responders arrived. We are going to dust it for prints, but, honestly, I don't think she ever got in it after exiting the bar."

Alaric said, "So she left with whoever popped Trevor?"

"Looks like it," the young agent said. "According to the manager of the bar, Elena Gilbert came with two women. They said Elena Gilbert left after a glass of wine as she was going home to pack."

Alaric raised his brows. "Pack?"

"She is going for a trip."

"A trip?"

"Family trip. That was what her friends said. Elena Gilbert has taken some time off work."

"Elena Gilbert is taking over her father's place at the Gilbert & Company," Tanner explained. "She is probably planning to go back to San Francisco."

Alaric frowned. "This is a worry. Why was Trevor Bolden here last night? He was Maxfield's hired gun."

"It doesn't sadden me in the slightest that Trevor is no longer a worry," Tanner said. "But there is this other guy, who apparently isn't the least bit gun-shy. He remains unknown and at large."

Alaric looked thoughtful. "What is he after?" He turned his attention back to the young agent. "Did you find a phone on Trevor?"

"Negative," the agent said.

"No doubt he lifted that, too." Alaric put his hands on his hips and swore softly. "This unidentified companion of Trevor's is beginning to worry me."

* * *

 **Sorry for the wait. I know some of you are very eager to read the updated chapters. I really want to make this a good story. Writing a romance or family drama is completely different but crime/thriller action stuff - definitely challenging. Please bear with me. I promise I will do my very best to make this a good story.**

 **Is Damon evil? What is his motive behind? It seems my readers have different opinions. Some of you may think Delena relationship here is a bit far-stretched...but I kind of like it, so I'm going to stick with my gut instinct and carry on:)**

 **Enjoy and continue to watch the space:)**


	9. Chapter 9

The administration building of Gilbert & Company was a twelve-story modern glass structure, towering over a nest of research buildings, manufacturing plants, experimental laboratories, planning divisions, and railroad spurs. It was the brain centre of the far-flung Gilbert & Company empire.

The reception lobby was starkly modern, decorated in green and white, with Danish furniture. A receptionist sat behind a glass desk, and those who were admitted by her into the recesses of the building had to be accompanied by a guide. To the right rear of the lobby was a bank of elevators, with one private express elevator for the use of the company president.

On this morning the private elevator had been used by the members of the board of directors. They had arrived within the past few half an hour by limousine. They were gathered now in the enormous, high-ceilinged, oak-panelled boardroom; Richard Lockwood, Liz Forbes, and Logan Fell. The only non-member of the board in the room was Isobel Fleming.

Refreshments and drinks had been laid out on a sideboard, but no one in the room was interested. They were tense, nervous, each preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Jules, an efficient blonde woman in her late twenties, came into the room. "Mr Gilbert's car has arrived."

Her eye swept around the room to make sure that everything was in order: pens, note pads, a silver carafe of water at each place, cigars and cigarettes, ashtrays, matches. Jules had been John Gilbert's personal secretary for three years. She was always organised and meticulous in her work. She nodded, satisfied, and withdrew.

Downstairs, in front of the administration building, John was stepping out of a limousine.

The press was waiting for him. As he started into the building, he found himself surrounded by television and radio and newspaper reporters, with cameras and microphones.

"I'm from L'Europeo, Mr Gilbert. Could we have a statement? Who is going to take over the company now that Elena Gilbert has gone missing? You are Grayson's brother. Does it mean you will be in charge?"

"Look this way, please, Mr Gilbert. Do you think Elena Gilbert is still alive?"

"Associated Press, Mr Gilbert. Is this a ransom? Have you heard anything yet?"

"New York Daily News. Did they find out how - ?"

"Wall Street Journal. Can you tell us something about the company's financial - ?"

"I'm from the London Times. We are planning to do an article on the Gilbert &…"

John was fighting his way into the lobby, escorted by three security guards, pushing through the sea of reporters.

"One more picture, Mr Gilbert…"

And John was in the elevator, the door closing. He took a deep breath. Grayson was dead. And now Elena had gone missing. Talk about timing and coincidence.

A few moments later, John walked into the boardroom. Richard Lockwood was the first to greet him. "It has gone viral on the media. It was such a shock to all of us."

"Tell me something I don't know," John said dryly.

Logan came up. "Have you heard any news?"

"No." John turned. "Hello, Liz."

"John, I'm sorry I missed Grayson's funeral because of my husband's operation," Liz said, "If there is anything at all…"

"Thank you, Liz," John said. "I don't think there is anything we can do."

"It is like she was beamed up by aliens, and that is the least horrible thing I can think of." Richard sighed deeply. "The ghastly alternatives…"

"Don't," Isobel said firmly. "No speculations, please."

"Now that everyone is here, why don't we begin?" Richard smiled reassuringly. "This won't take long."

Everyone took their accustomed places at the large rectangular oak table. Logan was saying, "Since we do not have a…" He caught himself and turned to Richard. "Why don't you take over?"

Richard glanced around, and the others murmured approval. "Very well."

Richard said, "I think that under the circumstances we can dispense with the formalities. All of us have suffered a terrible loss. But" - he looked apologetically at John – "the essential thing now is that Gilbert & Company show a strong public face."

"Gilbert & Company is always strong," John growled.

"I agree with you, John," Richard said. "But there is a merger offer on the table and we should seriously think about it."

Logan added. "I agree. The merger will allow Grayson to get out on top of his career. His legend will remain untarnished. And everyone in the board—and you as well, John—will walk away with a very nice profit. We are talking multimillion-dollar payouts for each stockholder."

John looked at Liz. "Do you agree with that?"

"If this is the best for the company, I would say yes, John."

John said, "So, in effect, the Mikaelson family would control Gilbert & Company."

"We would still remain on the board of directors," Richard interposed quickly.

John turned to Richard. "Grayson would never agree that this is the best thing for the company."

"Grayson would know what is best for the company," Richard explained. "Don't make this difficult for us, John."

John challenged Richard. "If everyone is in agreement that the best thing for the company is to go ahead with the merger and let it get into the hands of outsiders, why hasn't it been done before?"

There was an awkward silence. Richard said, "It has to be by mutual consent, John. Everyone on the board must agree."

Isobel spoke up. "But Grayson didn't agree."

"Grayson had his own ideas," Logan explained. "Your brother could be very stubborn."

"Just like me," John added. "Never let a friendly fox into your hen house. One day he is going to get hungry. And Grayson had not wanted to sell He must have had good reason."

Richard was saying, "Believe me, John, it is much better to leave all this to us. You don't understand these things."

"You are wasting your time, Richard," John said. "I won't agree with the merger."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Logan said, "You don't hold the deciding shares. You can't stop the merger."

Richard said angrily, "Logan is right. You can't stop us."

They were all speaking at once, in a confused and angry storm of words that beat at John.

"Elena is the sole heir of Grayson," Liz cut in firmly. "I think she should be made aware of the pros and cons of the merger."

Richard and Logan looked at each other.

"I think Liz is right," Isobel added. "I believe the police are doing their best. We should have fate in them."

"But she is missing now," Richard said.

Logan said bitterly. "The merger is not going to wait for us forever."

Richard exploded. "Dammit, we can't wait…"

Liz spoke again. "Elena is missing but it doesn't mean she is dead."

The others turned to look at her. Liz went on, "Once the police have tracked her down, she would come back to us. She has the right to get a clear picture of the company before she makes up her own mind."

"What if they can't find her?" Richard asked.

"Richard is right," Logan added. "What if she is never found?"

There was a moment of acute shock.

"Then John is the sole beneficiary," Liz said quietly.

They all looked at her. Isobel nodded in agreement.

"Yes, of course," she said. "John is Grayson's brother."

Logan glanced at John before coming back to the others. "Make sense. That's why John insists that we wait."

John frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know Elena isn't going to come back," Logan said flatly.

"What the hell?" John growled, pointing at Logan. "She is my niece and she has gone missing. I'm worried like crazy."

With maddening composure, Richard said, "You are over reacting here, John."

John was furious. "I'm over reacting? What Logan said sounded like an insinuation."

Logan, unfazed, asked, "What did I insinuate?"

"I don't want Elena to be found. I'm involved in this whole thing. Neither of which is true or accurate."

Logan leaned forward again and gave him that folksy smile. "I wasn't insinuating anything, John."

John eyed them both coldly but didn't say anything.

"But the truth is…" Logan shifted in his chair. "If Elena is dead, you will be the one controlling Gilbert & Company. What do you think the Feds are thinking right now?"

There was another silence. Everyone was busy with their own thoughts.

One of them was thinking. _Oh God, she has to die._

x x x

Wes was angry.

He was alone in his home. His home was a three-bedroom, four-thousand-square-foot condo in the luxurious area of San Francisco. He didn't want to be disturbed. The alone time had allowed him to reflect on the gigantic, steaming pile of shit the FBI had just dumped on his doorstep.

Killing Elena Gilbert was supposed to be an easy task but Trevor had screwed it up. Even Trevor was dead, there was one problem with this: there was a hundred percent chance that the FBI would be watching him now.

His cell phone rang. He reached into his pants pocket, pulled it out, and saw a familiar name. "What did you want now?"

"She is supposed to be dead."

"How do you know she isn't dead?" Wes shot back.

"Your man was dead. She has gone missing."

"Calm down."

"I want her dead and she isn't. Now it has gone viral on the media."

Wes clenched his teeth. This was not good. Trevor foolishly had assumed he wouldn't make any mistake. And now he was a dead man.

"Do you think the FBI know about us?"

"Don't speak to anyone about this," Wes warned.

"I'm not crazy."

Wes fell silent for a moment. "You shouldn't call me. The FBI could be watching us."

"What?"

"Stop calling me. If I need to talk to you, I will find a way."

"Okay."

"What did you find out from your side?" Wes asked.

"Nothing. She is still missing. The police say they are pulling out all the stops to find her."

"We will find her first."

"You have to find her first."

"I know."

"Your man sold you out, Maxfield."

Wes' mouth tightened. "I think we have talked long enough."

"Do your job properly next time, Wes."

After Wes hung up, he paced through his penthouse like a caged tiger. He felt trapped, so trapped he could barely breathe. He ran his hand through his hair—he felt wild and out of control.

Nobody had ever sold him out. Nobody.

Whoever popped Trevor would pay for it.

x x x

"What do you mean, we have lost her?" Mikael demanded to know. "You must not be looking hard enough."

"Trust me, we have been looking." Elijah was seated in one of the chairs in front of Mikael's desk. "That guy is very smart and careful. He has changed his license plate twice and he got on and off the expressway several times, and doubled back on his route so many times. Our men did manage to catch up with him but…"

Mikael raised his brows. "But they still lost her."

"We have lost contact with our men since this morning," Elijah said. "I think he must have figured out that he has been followed."

"Who is that guy?" Mikael asked.

"We got a name. Damon Salvatore." Elijah tossed a photograph onto the desk. "But there isn't much personal information on him. I have been asking around about Damon Salvatore. No one has ever heard of the guy. We only know Trevor got him to work on this case."

"He shot Trevor. Obviously they aren't friends," Mikael said. "How is Wes Maxfield taking this?"

Elijah nodded. "Wes Maxfield is furious about his wingman being shot but he hasn't done anything yet because the FBI has been involved."

"The FBI will be watching Maxfield and he has to be crazy to make a move now." Mikael looked thoughtful. "But it doesn't mean he won't."

"We will keep on looking for her in the meantime." Elijah glanced at the photograph on the desk. "Do you think he has killed her yet?"

"It doesn't make sense," Mikael said.

"What do you mean?"

"Why would this guy shot Trevor? Why would he betray Maxfield?"

Elijah thought about it. "You are right. Why would he mess with Maxfield? But what does he want?"

Mikael pointed at Elijah. "You keep on looking for her until I say otherwise. And find out more about this Salvatore guy. There's more to this story. I can feel it."

x x x

It was still foggy outside. Elena couldn't leave the cabin. Damon had taken his pickup. He had guaranteed that she would remained trapped here until he returned. Or the worst case scenario, some strangers who wanted her dead would turn up.

She set the pistol on the kitchen table with care.

Soon after Elena started university, Jenna had introduced her to a small handgun she owned and had given her a rudimentary lesson on how to fire it. But Elena never had. It had been a revolver. This one had a cartridge. Recognizing the difference was almost the sum total of what she knew about firearms. But having one in reach was good for her peace of mind.

She restlessly prowled the cabin. She pawed through the contents of drawers she hadn't explored before, but found nothing that gave away anything about her host—no journal, correspondence, receipts, not a single scrap of paper with enlightening information on it.

That itself was a reveal. Damon was scrupulously careful. He kept nothing that could give more information about him.

She paced, frequently looking out the window, hoping to see the approach of his pickup. As aggravating as it was to admit, she was worried about him. What if he had an accident? It was so foggy outside, he could easily crash his vehicle. What if he had encountered more bad guys on the way? Her imagination expanded on several themes, all of them catastrophic, all ending badly not only for him but also for her.

It was an appalling thought, one she hadn't allowed herself to contemplate before now: She might never get home.

 _Don't be ridiculous. You will get home. Of course you will. Nothing will happen to you, Elena._

When she heard the pickup pulling into the yard, she retrieved the pistol, cradled it between her hands, and aimed it at the door.

Damon stamped in, looking more forbidding than she had ever seen him. The pistol didn't disconcert him in the slightest. He took one derisive look at it, and said, "We are leaving."

"Where are we going?"

"Get into the car," he ordered.

She shook her head. "I want to go home."

"I said get into the car."

She swallowed hard. "I don't want to shoot you. Don't make me do it."

He took a step forward. "You won't."

"Let me go and I won't shoot you."

"No."

"I will shoot you!"

"You will miss even if you try."

"You are a large target. At that range I couldn't have missed."

"Probably not, but there wasn't a cartridge in it."

Elena blinked. "It wasn't loaded?"

He came as close to smiling as he ever did. "Sweetheart, a word of advice. If you aim at somebody with the intention of shooting him, make sure the weapon is locked and loaded, ready to fire. If you don't intend to shoot him, don't point the thing at him in the first place."

Damon gripped the muzzle of the gun and slowly pushed it towards the ground. When Elena didn't fight him, he took the pistol out of her hand, tugging gently until she let go.

"Let's get going." He pulled on her arm.

"Where are we going?" she asked warily.

"Don't make me tie you down," he warned in a deadly voice. "Get moving!"

Inside the pickup, the tension and silence were suffocating. Elena clutched the edge of the seat as he steered the pickup around another hairpin curve. The headlights had been their only source of light since the abrupt departure from the cabin.

They hadn't passed a dwelling or structure of any kind. Nothing. It was as remote a road as she had ever been on, and certainly the most hazardous. The fog was still heavy.

Beside her, Damon saw her gaze flick repeatedly to the side of the road. He sensed her mounting panic and knew that fear was going to drive her to try something desperate at any moment. "Relax!" he ordered.

Elena's capacity for fear suddenly reached its limits and her emotions veered crazily from terror to fury. "Relax!" she exploded in a shaking voice, whipping her head around and glaring at him. "How in God's name do you expect me to relax when I'm being kidnapped? You tell me that!"

She had a point, Damon thought. "Just stay calm," he instructed.

"If you want me to stay calm," she retorted, goaded past all endurance by his patronizing tone and her strained nerves, "then you tell me where we are going, and I will calm down!"

He didn't say anything in response to that, nor did he say anything as he navigated the next series of switchbacks.

Finally, she asked. "How much farther?"

"You will know when we are there."

She didn't want to distract him with conversation, but she was desperate to know what lay in store. "Will you…What will you do?"

"When?"

"When we get there."

"You will see."

"Can't you just tell me, so I will know what to expect?"

"Just stay calm and let me drive, okay?"

They drove in silence for a moment. Then she gasped as they passed a sign that said the Georgia border was twenty miles away.

"We are going to Atlanta?" she cried out.

"Georgia," Damon said.

* * *

 **Thank you for all the support so far. I hope you guys/gals are enjoying this story as much as I do. I will try to post another one or two chapters this week - I'm trying my best to make it a good story, so sorry for the slow update.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

Alaric walked into his office, dropped a Subway sack on top of a pile of paperwork on his desk, and, without unnecessary preamble said, "Where in hell can she be?"

Tanner shrugged. "Who knows where has he taken her?"

"Found anything about him yet?" Alaric took one of the sandwiches from the sack and passed it to Tanner.

"Yes," Tanner said as he reached for a folder and flipped it open. "Got the name. Damon Salvatore."

"Background information?"

Tanner took a bite of his sandwich. "Nothing."

Alaric frowned. "What do you mean by nothing?"

"Thirty-two-year-old American, born in Mystic Falls. No criminal record." Tanner gestured towards the photo. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Alaric looked at the photo again. "I'm not convinced. And let me tell you why. This guy must be somebody. If Wes Maxfield finds him, it means dead. Death is not only going to be imminent, but extremely painful."

"What are you getting at?"

"Trevor got him on the job but ended up dead."

"Maybe he isn't happy with the split."

Alaric looked thoughtful. "I'm not buying that."

"Alaric is right." A voice appeared at the doorway. It was Andie Starr, another FBI agent walked into the office with a folder in her hand. "Look at this."

Alaric took the folder and flipped it open. His brows snapped together. "What was he doing with Trevor Bolden?"

"Trevor was a link to Wes Maxfield," Andie explained. "Only a guess, but Salvatore probably approached Bolden a while back and laid some groundwork. In the hope of getting to Maxfield and all that dough, he established a quasi-partnership with his trusted hit man.

"He offered his services," Alaric said as he passed the folder to Tanner. "Looks like he wants to get to Maxfield."

"I'm only guessing," Andie reminded them.

"It feels right, though," Alaric said. "He let Bolden know that he was available for down-and-dirty jobs, then sat back and waited for a call."

"And Trevor did call him for a new job," Andie said. "To kill Elena Gilbert."

Alaric rubbed his forehead. "Do you think he knows who she is?"

Andie shrugged. "I don't know."

"Maybe he does," Tanner said.

"Why did you say that?" Alaric asked.

"I supposed you know there is one hell of a squabble going on at the moment with Gilbert & Company.," Tanner said. "Something to do with a merger proposal."

"I heard something about it," Andie said. "The Mikaelson family is the buyer."

"Since when is the Mikaelson family interested in pharmaceutical products?" Tanner asked. "They are always building high rise buildings and houses."

"You are right." Alaric walked over to the windows. With his hand resting on the butt of the 9-millimeter semiautomatic he wore at his side, he stared absently at the cars parked in the parking lot. When he spoke again, his voice was hesitant as if he feared to voice his thoughts aloud. "Remember the connection between Grayson Gilbert and Wes Maxfield?"

Andie stared at him. "You think the Mikaelson family is into drugs like Maxfield?"

Alaric nodded. "Mikael Mikaelson's father was a big-time operator in the guns and drugs markets in the 1970s. Mikael took over the business after his father died, and he has created a new, clean life for himself almost twenty years."

"But it doesn't mean he won't get back into it," Tanner said. "Especially when there are lots of money involved. There are a lot of rumours about the Mikaelson at the moment."

Alaric looked at him. "What kind of rumours?"

"People are getting suspicious of those glowing company financials for the Mikaelson," Tanner explained. "There may have been an attempt to cover up some financial trouble at about the same time that they made the merger offer to Gilbert & Company."

"If there is financial trouble, then why Mikael Mikaelson is willing to pay a lot for the merger offer?" Andie asked.

"It comes back with the connection of Grayson Gilbert and Wes Maxfield," Tanner said.

Alaric thought about it. "I think I get it now. Mikaelson is hoping to control Gilbert & Company in order to get his hands in the drug industry."

"Bingo." Tanner snapped his finger. "Controlling Gilbert & Company means controlling Maxfield."

"Several members of the board want to sell and get out while the getting is good," Andie said. "They are probably aware of what is going on with the company."

Alaric looked thoughtful. "Wes ordered Trevor to kill Elena because she was Grayson's daughter."

"There is a lot of tension in the company at the moment," Andie said. "The merger offer is bringing things to the surface. Grayson's death and finding out that his shares went to his daughter has added another level of complexity."

"It looks like someone wants to get rid of Elena Gilbert," Tanner said. "She is holding the deciding shares."

"We will start with her family first." Alaric closed the folder and tucked it under his arm. "Tanner, what have you got so far?"

Tanner finished the last bite of his sandwich and spoke around it. "The Feds had spoken to John Gilbert. He said he has never met his niece. And he was having dinner with two chemists that night Elena went missing."

"If Elena Gilbert is dead, John Gilbert will be the sole beneficiary," Andie said. "He is at the top of the suspect list."

"For what it is worth," Alaric said, "I'm inclined to believe John Gilbert has nothing to do with this."

Andie and Tanner looked at him, this time as if he had said something remarkably dumb.

Andie raised her brows. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it," Alaric explained. "It is way too obvious that John will be the prime suspect if Elena Gilbert is dead. I don't think he is that dump."

"Maybe he is too angry when he finds out his brother had left everything to his daughter," Tanner said. "People do dump things when they are mad."

"I don't think John Gilbert is the kind of man who would let his emotions get in the way," Alaric said. "He and his brother had built something real and successful from nothing."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," Andie said. "Killing Elena Gilbert now is beyond careless because everyone will be pointing their fingers at John Gilbert. It is flat-out dumb. Unless…"

"Unless what?" Tanner asked.

"Unless you wanted to make it look like a setup that will ultimately point the finger at John Gilbert," Alaric said.

x x x

"Where are we going? What could possibly be up here except a deserted logging camp?" Elena's voice shook with nervous tension as she peered through the rain hurtling at the windshield. They had left the highway and turned onto a steep road that climbed the mountain in an endless series of hairpin turns, turns that would have made her nervous in the summer; now, with the heavy rain and poor visibility to complicate things, the climb was hair-raising. And just when she thought the drive couldn't get worse, they had turned onto a twisting road so narrow that the branches of the trees on either side of it reached out and brushed against the sides of the car.

"Relax, Elena," Damon said. "I won't let you die first."

She was annoyed. "This is not funny, okay?"

He handed her a soft drink they had bought at a gas station/convenience store, where they had also gotten fuel and he had escorted her to the rest room. He had prevented her from locking the door, and then he had inspected the rest room to see if she had tried to leave some sort of note there. When he handed her the soft drink without replying to her complaint about the treacherous conditions, Elena fell silent.

At long last, they were nearing their destination, Elena assumed, because they had turned off the last decent road over twenty minutes ago. Now they were wending their way up a mountain on a road that seemed only inches wider than the car. "I hope whoever gave you that map and the directions knew what he was doing," she said.

"Really?" he teased. "I would expect you to hope we were lost."

She ignored the good-natured amusement in his voice. "I would love it if you were lost, but I have no desire to be lost with you! The point is, it is extremely dangerous to drive in terrible weather on rotten roads."

"Mouthy."

She glared at him. "What did you say?"

"Stop distracting me," he warned. "Unless you want us to go over the edge."

Elena didn't not say a word for a while.

"We made it," he said eventually.

Elena gave him a killing look. "Made it to what?"

The answer to that came minutes later when they made one last hairpin turn at the top of the mountain. There in the middle of a secluded clearing in the dense forest was a magnificent house made of native stone and cedar and surrounded by wooden decks, with huge expanses of glass. "To this," he said.

"Who would build this place up here, a hermit?"

"Someone who obviously likes privacy and solitude."

"Does it belong to you?" she asked, suddenly suspicious.

Her didn't answer her.

"Does the owner know you are going to use his place for a hideout while the police are looking for you?"

"You ask too damned many questions," he said, pulling the pickup to a stop beside the house and climbing out. "But the answer is no." He came around to her side of the pickup and opened the door. "Let's go."

"No!" Elena burst out, pressing into the back of the seat. "I'm not going with you."

"Elena," he said with strained patience, "don't make this any harder on yourself than it needs to be. Moreover, it is not that bad a place to spend some time." With that he grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the pickup. Shivering uncontrollably in the freezing blasts of wind and rain, she followed him to the front door.

"N-n-now wh-what?" she demanded. "H-h-how do you in-intend to g-get in?"

Damon glanced over at her as he pulled out his lock-pick kit. "I have my way."

"Now what are you doing?" she gaped at him as he pushed the lock pins into place with the pick.

"Guess."

Stark with disbelief, she said, "What if the alarm goes off? We would have been caught."

"No, we won't."

"You can't break into someone's house…" Her words were interrupted as he swung open the door and gestured her inside with a sweep of his arm. "We have already agreed that I'm a criminal where you are concerned. Now, I suggest you go inside because it is cold and wet outside. Why don't you try to relax," he added. "Get some rest. Enjoy yourself. Think of this as a vacation."

Elena glared at him open-mouthed, then snapped her jaws together and said irately, "I'm not on a vacation! I'm a hostage, and don't expect me to forget it!"

In answer, he gave her a long-suffering look, as if she were being impossibly difficult, so she jerked her gaze from his and marched into the house. Inside, the mountain retreat was both rustic and startlingly luxurious, built around a gigantic centre room shaped like a hexagon, with three doors opening off of it into bedroom suites. Soaring wood ceilings were supported by gigantic crossbeams of rough-hewn cedar, and a winding staircase led up to a loft that was lined with handsome bookcases. Four of the six walls were made entirely of glass, offering a view of the mountains that Elena knew would be breathtaking on a clear day. The fifth wall was built of native stone with an enormous fireplace carved into the centre above a raised hearth. Facing the fireplace was a long L-shaped sofa upholstered in a butter soft silvery leather.

Opposite the sofa and facing the windows were two overstuffed chairs and ottomans upholstered in silver and green stripes that blended with the fat throw pillows on the sofa and raised hearth. A thick carpet with the same design as the throw pillows sculpted into the border covered part of the gleaming wooden floor in front of the fireplace. Two more pairs of chairs were positioned invitingly near two of the windows and a desk was tucked into an angle created by the glass walls.

At any other time, Elena would have been awed and intrigued by what was the most unique and beautiful place she had ever seen, but she was too upset and too hungry to give it more than passing notice. Turning, she wandered into the kitchen area, an efficient, modernistic galley-type affair that stretched across the back wall of the house and was divided from the living room by a high counter with six leather stools in front of it. Her stomach growled as she looked at the oak cabinets and oak-fronted built-in refrigerator, but her appetite was already losing the battle with exhaustion. Feeling like a sneak thief, she opened a cabinet that contained dishes and glassware, then another that contained—luckily—a wide variety of canned goods. Deciding to make a sandwich, she was reaching timidly for a can of albacore tuna fish when Damon walked in and saw her. "Dare I hope," he said, "that this means you are domestically inclined?"

"Do you mean, can I cook?"

"Yes."

"Not for you." Elena put the can of tuna back and closed the cabinet door just as her stomach let out an audible growl of protest.

"Jesus, you are mouthy and stubborn like hell!" Chafing his hands against the cold, he walked over to the thermostat on the wall and turned up the heat, then he headed for the refrigerator and opened the freezer door. Elena peeked around him and spied dozens of thick steaks and pork chops, huge roasts, some packages wrapped in white freezer paper, and boxes and boxes of vegetables, some raw and others prepared. It was a display that would do justice to any gourmet market. Her mouth began to water as he reached for a steak that was an inch and a half thick. She only had a slice of toast in the morning and she was starving at the moment.

"Hungry?" he asked.

She lied. "No."

"You didn't eat breakfast, either."

"I did," she retorted. "I had toast. I'm not hungry."

"I'm thinking of grill steak." He put the steak on the counter. "With roast vegetables and potatoes. Why don't we have salad too?"

"I'm not hungry."

Damon smirked. "You will eat when I have finished cooking."

"I said I'm not hungry. I'm cold and wet at the moment," she growled. "Can I use the bathroom?"

"This way," he said, already turning on his heel and heading for a doorway that opened off the living room. When he flipped on the light switch, Elena found herself in an enormous bedroom suite with a fireplace and an adjoining bathroom of black marble with mirrored walls. She spotted the telephone on the nightstand beside the king-size bed at the same moment he did. "It has its own bath," he told her unnecessarily as he walked over to the nightstand and briskly unplugged the telephone, tucking it under his arm.

"But no telephone, I see," she added with bitter resignation.

Behind her, he checked the doors to the bathroom and bedroom, then he caught her arm. "Look," he said, "we might as well get the rules established. Here is the situation: There are no other houses on this mountain. I have the car keys, so the only way you can leave here would be on foot. But don't blame me if you tumble down a slope that could bust an arm or a rib. Or an unexpected encounter with a black bear. The bedroom door and the bathroom door both have those useless little locks in the door handle that anyone can open from the other side with a hairpin, so I don't recommend that you try to barricade yourself in there, because it would be a waste of time, not to mention unnecessarily confining for you. Are you following me, so far?"

Elena tried unsuccessfully to jerk her arm free. "I'm not a moron."

"Good. Don't force me to tie you up again."

Elena made a face at him. "I'm not stupid."

"There are some clean T-shirts in the wardrobe." Damon said, his mouth quirking in a smile as he let his admiring glance rove over her long dark, brown hair and slim, restless figure. "I think they will fit you perfectly."

"You are a jerk."

Then she turned on her heel and stalked into the bathroom, soundly closing the door behind her.

Damon couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud.

* * *

 **Dear all, hopefully you guys/gals will enjoy reading this chapter. I had a lot fun while writing this chapter and I was basically grinning when I finished because I could picture clearly in my mind how Elena and Damon interacted with each other and how Damon smirked throughout this:) Will try to post another chapter later this week. Thank you for the support and kind words so far. I really appreciate it:)  
**


	11. Chapter 11

Damon inserted battery into the back of Trevor's phone while Elena was in the bathroom. He turned the phone to see the call log. Caller Unknown had in fact called a dozen times in the last one hour.

The boss was obviously very impatient, he thought. The phone rang as soon as he put the phone back in his breast pocket.

Talk about timing.

Damon answered. "How is it hanging, Wes?"

"Who are you? Why are you answering his phone?"

"I can think of only one reason."

There was a brief silence.

Then, "You are the one who shot Trevor."

"Compliments of me. I also took Elena Gilbert," Damon said. "Not her corpse. Her. Which means that if you still want her killed, you got to deal with me."

Wes let loose a spate of profanities and threats which came through loud and clear. "You think you are awfully smart, don't you?"

"Well, I outsmarted Trevor. That wasn't my grey matter left to shovel up."

"Why did you kill Trevor? You had agreed with the fifty-fifty split."

"You set me up to take the fall for her hit. Not a smart move, Wes."

Wes said nothing to that.

"Cat got your tongue?" Damon chided. "The sudden change of plan to kill her outside the bar was a set-up, wasn't it?"

"And why would I do that?"

"To take the fall for killing her. Trevor even told me to grab her purse, make it look like a robbery gone south so the hit couldn't be linked to anybody else."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Trevor was a pro, well known to cops but never prosecuted. One of his means of consistently getting off clean was to blame the dead dude. Because as Trevor and I were closing in on her, it occurred to me that when Trevor left that parking lot, there were going to be two bodies on the ground, and that one of them was going to be mine."

There was another silence.

"I'm willing to overlook it," Damon said, "but because my feelings were hurt, I'm going to need a bit more compensation than Trevor settled for."

"How do I know you even have Elena Gilbert?"

"Come on, Wes, let's cut this crap. You knew who you were talking to when I answered this phone. You already knew Trevor was dead. By now the story of last night's events will have been well covered by the media."

"Well, if in fact you did take Elena Gilbert, deal with her any way you like. I don't have to pay you a goddamn penny."

"That occurred to me, too. But here are some possible consequences of that decision. One, I use her phone to notify the nearest FBI office that she is alive. A little worse for wear, maybe, but very much alive."

He paused, but Wes said nothing. Damon had his attention.

"I don't care that much."

"Bullshit, you don't. Because if she is not dead, your partner won't be happy with it."

Wes didn't respond.

"I'm sure you have heard about the merger," Damon continued, "Elena holds the deciding shares. If she is alive, what do you think will happen to the merger?"

He let all that sink in, and then said, "I wonder what your partner would say if Elena is alive and takes over Gilbert & Company?"

"What do you want?" Wes growled.

"What if I contact your partner directly to tell him I have Elena Gilbert with me?"

"Okay then," Wes said. "Five hundred thousand."

"The deal you have with your partner is worth a lot more, buddy. Have a nice day."

Damon clicked off, removed the battery, and slipped the phone into his shirt pocket. He turned around and found Elena standing at the doorway.

"The deal?"

He ignored her and poured some whiskey into a glass. "Want something to drink?"

"What is the deal?"

Damon winced. He didn't particularly like being on the other end of grilling. Especially not by her. He extended her a glass of whiskey. "Here. Drink this."

"Like hell." She pushed the glass away, sloshing the bourbon on him.

"Waste of good liquor." He sucked it off the back of his hand.

"You would like me to get drunk, wouldn't you? Make me more manageable?"

"I didn't pour enough to make you drunk, just enough to take the edge off."

"I don't want to take the edge off, thank you." She glared at him. "What is the deal?""

"I suggest you help me to wash the lettuce while I cook the steak." He turned away from her. "I'm hungry."

"Oh, no!" She grabbed his arm before he could walk away. "You are not getting off that easy. Tell me what the deal is."

"You want to know about the deal? I don't think so."

"Who were you talking to just now?"

"None of your business."

"He still wants you to kill me?"

"I said it is none of your business," he growled.

"Answer me!"

He moved away from her. "Go back to your room."

"Why?"

"Go back to your room."

"Or what?"

He stormed back to her grabbed her hand, and dragged her out of the kitchen area.

She tried to wrest her hand free. "You said you didn't want to hurt me."

"I won't. Believe me, when I pop you, you won't feel it."

When they reached the bedroom door, she was fighting like a wild cat, which made him even more furious. They wrestled, although it was never any real contest. He easily backed her against the door, her hands sandwiched between it and her butt. He held her there by pressing his body flush with hers.

"You had better hope Wes Maxfield says no to my terms."

"You are not going to kill me or you would have already."

"You have no idea how much money you are worth…"

"Not for any amount," she retorted. "I don't think you will."

"You know I will. You have seen me in action. Trevor? Not my first. Not even my first this week. Remember the men coming after us this morning?" Her eyes widened fractionally. "Oh, yeah, Elena. I have killed a lot more before I came to Richmond. So, don't delude yourself."

She swallowed. Brown eyes that had been throwing daggers moments ago now filled with misgiving. He felt her literally going softer against him as her resistance ebbed.

To impress upon her his point, he squeezed her shoulders tighter. "I did Trevor without a blink. Those people I had killed previously? A snap. Didn't even stop to think about it."

"You have stopped to think about me."

"Not really."

"Then what is stopping you?"

He stared into her defiant eyes, then lowered his gaze to her over-sized T-shirt. It was much too big for her. The hem fell to her thighs. She looked sexy as hell. She had no idea what impact those long legs and curving flanks did to him. He had no doubt that they would have the same impact on half a dozen other men at various times. She must have collected men like trophies with an effortless ease.

In another time, under other circumstances, Damon might not have objected to being collected by the woman in front of her. Wouldn't have objected, either, to exploring her mouth with his tongue, and her enticing rear with his palms. But he hadn't brought her up here to play games with her.

Besides, that kind of games could get in the way of his plan. Wes had already called once. He would call again, sooner or later. Damon would stick to his game plan.

His eyes moved back to her before he abruptly stepped back and turned away, saying roughly, "I will call you when supper is ready."

x x x

The mouth-watering aroma of steak sizzling on a grill lured her out from a deep sleep. Dimly aware that the huge bed on which she slept was too big to be her own bed, she rolled onto her back, completely disoriented. Blinking in the inky darkness of an unfamiliar room, she turned her face the opposite direction, searching for the pale source of illumination spilling through what turned out to be a narrow parting of the draperies on the wall. Moonlight. For a few blissful moments, she imagined she was in a luxuriously large hotel room somewhere on vacation.

She glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. Wherever she was, the local time was 8:20 P.M. And it was chilly in the room. It hit her then that she was not in a hotel room. She was in a house somewhere, and there were footsteps in the next room.

Heavy, masculine footsteps…...

Damon.

Awareness hit her like a punch in the stomach and she sat bolt upright in bed, already throwing the covers off and standing up, adrenalin pumping. How could she fall asleep? She took a quick step towards the window, her mind's escape mechanism working before her logic caught up. Goose bumps lifted on her bare legs, and she looked down in shivering disbelief at what she was wearing—a man's T-shirt she'd removed from a dresser drawer after her shower. Her captor's warning came back to her: "I have the car keys and there are no other houses on this mountain…"

"Just relax," Elena told herself aloud, but she was rested now and fully alert, and her mind was tumbling over itself with possible escape solutions, none of which were even remotely feasible. On top of that she was famished. Food first, she decided, and then she would try to think of a way out of here.

She thought she would use the bathroom again before she had something to eat. It didn't surprise her that the face staring back at her from the mirror looked terrible. She had washer her hair but she didn't have a brush. Grimacing, she used her fingers to brush her hair and piled it on top of her head, securing it with a rubber band she found in the bathroom. Looking nice for Damon Salvatore was not only completely unnecessary but probably a major mistake, considering that kiss in the cabin she had participated this morning.

That kiss…

It seemed like weeks, not merely hours since he had kissed her, and now that she was rested and alert, Elena felt reasonably sure his only interest in her was merely to ensure he got his money. Not sexual.

Definitely not sexual.

She glanced at the mirrors on the bathroom walls and felt reassured. She was thrilled with her looks. In an oversized T-shirt, with her hair like this and no makeup on, she wouldn't appeal sexually to any man.

Drawing in a long, steadying breath, she reached for the door handle and turned it, reluctant but ready to face her captor—and hopefully a delicious meal. The bedroom door wasn't locked. She distinctly remembered locking that door, on principle, when she was told to get to the room.

Silently, she opened the door and stepped into the main room of the house. For a split second, the inviting beauty of the scene made her feel completely disoriented. A fire was roaring in the fireplace, the lights on the beams high above were dimmed, and candles were lit on the coffee table, flickering on the crystal wine glasses he had set out beside linen place mats. It might have been the wine glasses and candles that suddenly made Elena feel as if she was walking into a seduction scene, or perhaps it was the dimmed lights or the soft music playing on the stereo. Trying to inject a brisk, businesslike tone into her voice, she headed towards Damon Salvatore, who was standing in the kitchen, his back to her, taking something out of the broiler. "What is this about?"

He turned and looked at her, an inexplicable, lazy smile sweeping over his face as he surveyed her from head to foot. Elena had the staggering, and impossible, impression that he actually liked what he saw, an impression that was reinforced by the way he lifted his wine glass to her in the gesture of a toast and said, "You distracted me just now. I had forgotten to mention that you look adorable in that oversize T-shirt."

Elena took a cautious step backward. "The last thing I want to do is look nice for you. In fact, I would rather wear my own clothes, even if they are not fresh," she said, turning on her heel.

"Elena!" he snapped, all goodwill gone from his voice.

She lurched around, amazed and alarmed by the dangerous swiftness of his mood swings. She took another cautious step backward as he stalked towards her, a wine glass in each hand. "Have something to drink," he ordered, thrusting a long-stemmed glass towards her. "Drink it, damn it!" He made a visible effort to soften his tone. "It will help you relax."

"Why should I relax?" she countered obstinately. "So that you can kill me easily?"

"Drink this, or I swear I will pour it down your throat."

She took the glass and drank the wine, while he stood only one foot away, towering over her, his broad shoulders blocking out her view of anything but him. It hit her suddenly that he had evidently shaved, and changed clothes while she fell asleep and that, in a pair of charcoal trousers and a grey V-neck T-shirt, Damon Salvatore was far more handsome than she had expected.

He gestured to the chair. "Sit down while I finish dinner."

Elena obeyed and sat down on one of the stools at the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room.

"Don't you dare try to do anything silly, or I will make sure you are being tied up for the whole night," he warned, taking a baked potato out of the oven.

She took another swallow of the wine for courage. "Are you always like this?"

He raised one brow. "What?"

"How can you be so arrogant and glib after everything you have done?"

At the look she gave him, he snickered. "And how can you be so brave and stupid as to call your captor 'arrogant and glib'"?

She drank more wine. "If you wanted me dead, I would be dead."

He put down two plates which contained juicy steaks and baked potatoes on the counter. "Yes, you would."

She picked up her fork. "But I'm not."

"Yet."

She ignored him and cut the first bite of steak. "This smells delicious."

Amusement gleamed in his eyes. "I thought you said you aren't hungry."

She took a bite of the steak. "If I'm going to die anyway, I have just as well made sure my stomach is full and happy."

He poured the last of the bottle of wine into his glass and tossed it down. "You are still mouthy."

She pointed her fork at him. "And you are still a jerk."

He grinned. "I know."

An hour later, they had finished eating and Damon was having the last of his wine. Despite the dinner went smoothly, Elena had been vibrantly and uneasily aware of his nearness throughout their meal. She didn't underestimate the threat he posed—he was like a panther, patiently stalking his prey. Unhurried, graceful, predatory, and dangerous. She understood the threat he posed. He wouldn't kill her. Would he? Surely not. Not after kissing her that way.

She glanced covertly at him. Jesus, he looked incredibly sexy as he rolled his glass between his hands. If he had walked into the ER as a patient, would she have noticed that lovely fine-boned face of his and those incredible eyes? Or she would have overlooked all that because she would treat him as an ordinary patient? If they had met in the bar, would he have wanted to see her for lunch, evenings, or invite her to parties?

Elena gave herself a stern mental shake. None of that mattered! All that mattered was whether he was going to kill her. She stole another look at his profile and felt her heart skipped a beat.

"You are staring."

Her head jerked around and she saw him watching her. Her cheeks burned. "What did you say?"

His voice was cool, clipped and hard. "Don't play games with me, honey."

"I'm not!" she retorted.

"Stop stalling. I'm tired."

Elena watched him gather up plates and head for the sink. As he turned away, she said under her breath, "You are not all that nice."

He came back around. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

He gave her a hard look, and then his eyes tracked down the length of her body and all the way back up, pausing in places that grew warm under his scrutiny. "I'm not all that restrained, either."

He always had the last word, disallowing her to enjoy even a small triumph. Resentfully she folded her arm across her chest. "I suppose I have the right to know who is Wes Maxfield and why did he want to kill me."

"What?"

"I have never met him and I want to know why he wants to kill me," she pointed out with overdone politeness.

"Oh, for…" The plates hit the sink with a thunk. "Fine, I will play along with your game. What do you want to know?"

"Who is Wes Maxfield?"

"Someone you don't want to know."

Her brows snapped together. "That's not an answer."

"He is the top restaurant and nightclub owner in Richmond—but also the ruthless and powerful—owner of the underground drug industry in the State of Virginia."

She swallowed hard. "He wants to kill me because of my father. What did my father do to him? Did he kill my father?"

"What do you think?"

She didn't like the way he was diverting her questions but she knew she had to try. "What is the deal? You were talking about the deal with Wes Maxfield."

"There is one hell of a squabble going on at Gilbert & Company at the moment. Something to do with a merger proposal," Damon said. "I bet you must have heard about it."

She frowned. "I have told you before. That's my father company, not mine. I'm not interested in his business."

"Do you know the Mikaelson family?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"They are the want who make the offer."

"What has it to do with Wes Maxfield?"

"Gilbert & Company is a big pie and everyone wants a piece of it." He chuckled. "Lots of money involved."

"Did my father agree with the merger proposal?"

"What do you think?"

"Probably not," she said.

"Why not?'

"Because I know what my mother said about my father was true, He was only interested in his business and nothing else."

"Human being is greedy, sweetheart, especially when it comes to money," he said dryly.

"And you said "The Jewels" are produced by Gilbert & Company."

"That's right."

"But they are illicit drugs."

"Yes."

She thought about it. "My father didn't want to produce them anymore and he didn't agree with the merger proposal because the merger means Gilbert & Company will have to continue to supply drugs to Wes Maxfield."

He said nothing to that.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

He didn't answer.

"Who is Wes Maxfield's partner? Someone from Gilbert & Company?" she asked.

"I don't know and, to be perfectly honest, I don't give a damn."

Elena glared at him. "Don't give me that. I heard your conversation with Wes Maxfield."

He wasn't impressed and he wasn't friendly. "You know it is rude to spy on people who want to have private conversations."

She ignored him. "They want me dead because I have something - namely, those Gilbert & Company shares. They are afraid that I won't agree with the merger."

A brief silence stretched between them.

"You are onto something, aren't you?" she asked, finally.

He blinked. He stared at her for a couple of seconds before he recovered. He even managed a chuckle, but it was a little shaky. "Money. I'm after money, of course."

Elena shook her head. "No. You aren't after money. If you are, then you would have killed me that day outside the bar."

Then he did the last thing she expected he laughed.

She frowned. "What's so funny?"

"You are no good to me dead at this stage," he said, his expression hard. "But it doesn't mean you won't be dead soon. Now get up and go to the room."

His frigid command made her lurch upright. She glared at him but she did as he told her. When she reached the room, he reached for her hand. She snatched it away, but he reached for it again and this time held on. He pulled her towards the bathroom.

"What are you doing?"

"Bathroom." He pushed open the door, then stood aside and hitched his head.

"I will use it later."

"I have got to sleep. I don't want to be woken up for you to take a bathroom break."

Her eyes widened. "You are going to sleep here?"

"Yes. You better use the bathroom now."

He gave her time to think it over, and then added, "You have two minutes of privacy before I change my mind."

She went inside but he stopped her from closing the door. "Don't worry, I won't look."

She scowled at him and used the bathroom. Two minutes was more than adequate time. She finished in half that and walked back inside the room. He moved towards her, and when he reached for her hand, about to tie the bandana on her wrists, she asked, "Is that really necessary?"

He just gave her a sardonic look.

"My arms will go numb."

"I don't care while I'm asleep."

"What could I do with my hands tied?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't want to be surprised." He gestured towards the bed. "Go lie down."

"Yes, warden!" Elena snapped back, instantly angered by his high-handedness. "I hope my snoring doesn't disturb you. You won't kill me because I snore, will you?"

Instead of answering, he lifted his brows and regarded her in cold silence.

She moved to the bed, sat down and lay down on her right side.

"I will leave your feet free. There is not much you could do without the use of your hands. I guess you could try running out of the house before I chased you down, but whatever you tried, you would fail."

"If I'm going to die anyway, I had just as well try to escape."

"I admire that fighting spirit, Elena. Truly I do. The thing is, I don't wake up in a cheerful mood on the best of days. If you woke me up trying some doomed-to-fail stunt, I would be so pissed off I would likely tie your feet together and gag you. Is that what you want?"

She muttered something what sounded to him like asshole and bastard.

He pulled the T-shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor. She quickly looked away to avoid the sight of his bare chest.

"Elena." He came to stand in front of her. "Elena."

Feeling foolish and cowardly, she jerked her head back towards him. "What?"

"Pistol." He touched the holster at his hip. "Cell phone." He patted his right jeans pocket. "Cell phone battery." He patted his left jeans pocket. "You might manage to get one away from me, but not all three."

His hands remained flat against his pockets, bracketing the frayed fly of his jeans. The waistband was low and loose, curled slightly forward away from his torso. Cowardly or not, she turned her head aside again and closed her eyes. She heard him removed his boots and laid down beside her. Then an encompassing, almost palpable quiet descended. The next sound she heard was the even breathing of someone who had fallen instantly but soundly asleep.

He slept like a baby, while she was still trying to attach a definition to the way he had kissed her this morning. She didn't want to think of it as something significant, but that was what it had been. The most disquieting thing about it, the aspect of it that had stopped her breath, had been the way he had caressed her with his tongue when he kissed her.

Compelled by curiosity and a confounding restlessness, she raised her head so she could see him through her shoulder.

He lay on his back. One hand lay at his side. The other, the one that had handled the satin strap with such delicacy, maintained a loose clasp on the pistol grip.

But despite the rhythmic expansion and recession of his rib cage, she didn't trust that he lay in the boneless lassitude of deep slumber. Any stimuli would bring him bolt upright, eyes slashing like sabres, muscles instantly reactive.

She laid her head back down and settled more comfortably onto the bed. If she lay still and quiet and allowed him to sleep, it might buy her more time. If she provoked him, he might tie her up and gag her. She had to figure out a way to get help if she couldn't escape.

She yawned. Drowsily she realised her eyelids felt heavy. Surrendering to the drowsiness, and lulled by the rhythm of Damon's breathing, she closed her eyes.

* * *

 **Another chapter with lots of Delena. I hope I have managed to bring out the chemistry and dynamics of Delena in this chapter. It will get more exciting in the next few chapters:) Hope you guys/gals will enjoy reading this chapter. I really appreciate your support so far. Thank you!**


	12. Chapter 12

From the moment Alaric walked into the office, he knew something was up.

Trouble.

He took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Tanner's desk, watching as his partner frowning while reading the folder in front of him.

"What's up?" Alaric asked.

"Oh, you haven't heard?"

Alaric's stomach dropped.

"Two men were found naked and tied up at the back alley of the police station in Charlotte yesterday. They work for Mikael Mikaelson. They said they were attacked near a cabin about fifty miles away from Charlotte. And they are almost positive that the man who attacked them was Damon Salvatore."

Alaric squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back against his chair. "Did they see Elena Gilbert?"

Tanner passed the folder to him. "Nope. Those guys are city thugs. They are used to dealing drugs in back alleys, conducting smash-and-grab robberies and carjacking. They were out of their elements yesterday."

Alaric read the folder. "It was foggy and they couldn't see clearly. Obviously, they were working under a major strategic disadvantage, whether they knew it or not. Bu Damon Salvatore knew the place very well."

"The PD in Charlotte has sent some people there but the place is empty."

"It would be stupid of him to stay there." Alaric put the folder down. "I'm surprised those guys would tell us everything."

"They are scared to death." Tanner chuckled. "Said they were hired to pick Elena Gilbert up, that's all."

"What did Mikael Mikaelson say?"

"He is not saying a word," Tanner said. "Except that he wants to talk to a lawyer, of course."

"What about Wes Maxfield?"

"He has been pretty quiet lately."

Alaric didn't like the sound of that. Maxfield had been very quiet over the past couple days. People like Maxfield did not keep quiet when his wingman was being shot. "I don't like that he has gone silent."

"You think he is up to something?" Tanner asked.

"Maybe. We need to find them as soon as possible. Do those guys know where they will head to?"

Tanner shook his head. "Salvatore knocked them down when they were inside the cabin. When they woke up, they were already in the back alley."

Andie appeared in the doorway.

"Today may be our lucky day," she said. "Someone spotted Salvatore at a gas station/convenience store in Atlanta. Said there was a woman with him."

Alaric stood up. "Andie, stay here and find out whether Salvatore has any connection in Atlanta. Friends or families. Tanner and I will head over and check things out."

"It is going to take us more than seven hours to drive to Atlanta," Tanner said.

"We will fly. Book the ticket now and meet me at the airport," Alaric said. "I will talk to the boss now."

x x x

Wes was getting impatient.

He hated to wait. But he had to.

"It wasn't long enough to trace, Mr Maxfield," said an assistant from the adjoining office. "Sorry. We can have our man over at central trace it, but it will take a while."

"It doesn't matter."

Wes would wait. The son of bitch didn't know he already had him.

But that was more than five hours ago since the son of bitch had called him and now Wes was getting impatient.

He was staring at his phone every few second, waiting for it to ring.

"Dammit! How long is this going to take?"

He almost threw his phone at a silver-framed decorative mirror hanging on the wall in the foyer when a man with beard walked in with a manila folder in his hand.

"This will make your day, boss."

Wes took the folder and flipped it open. His jaw tightened. Through clenched teeth, he said, "I want him dead. Kill him. Kill the woman."

He whipped around and threw the folder onto the floor. His phone rang at that moment.

"What did you find out?" he snarled. "Where are they?"

"Atlanta. The address will be sent to you as a text message."

Wes hung up.

"You have made one huge mistake, Salvatore, a larger, more suicidal mistake because I'm going to kill you."

x x x

Characteristically, Damon was a light sleeper. That was why it surprised him that he didn't come awake until she began to agitate next to him.

At first he misunderstood the reason for her agitation. He thought she was struggling to free herself. "Hey! Cut it out."

But as he came more fully awake, he realized she wasn't struggling to free herself. Her eyes were still closed. She was dreaming. No, not dreaming. She was having a nightmare.

"Relax. You are dreaming."

Her eyes opened, but either she was in the throes of a nightmare or panic had pushed her beyond reason, because when Damon moved his hand towards her face and tried brush her hair off her face, she began fighting him. She flung her head from side to side.

She tried to kick him while struggling to free her hands. He threw his right leg over hers to protect himself from her vicious kicks.

"Be still, for God's sake," he said. "You are dreaming."

She screamed up at him. "Get off me!"

"Stop that!" he ordered as he held her face in his palms. "Look at me."

She blinked a couple of times.

"You are fine," he said, speaking in a low, soothing voice. He reached up to smooth away strands of hair. "You were dreaming. That's all it was." She stared at him dazedly while her breathing gradually slowed down. "Better now?"

She nodded.

His eyes touched on her brow, cheekbone, nose, and mouth. After only a moment's hesitation, he whisked the pad of his thumb across her chin and lower lip.

"I'm not going to kick you, Damon."

Something, desire maybe, had made him muddle-headed. "What?"

She shifted uncomfortably, and he realized that his leg was still lying across hers, trapping them against the mattress. His foot, his calf, even the inside of his thigh touching her as a lover might. His crotch was pressed snugly against her hip. His eyes lowered to her lips again.

He had touched them with his thumb. They were incredibly soft.

"Let me go. Please."

The words were whispered, but they couldn't have been clearer.

Her plea for him to desist covered about six transgressions that sprang immediately to mind. With more self-restraint than a man should have to exercise in a lifetime, he withdrew his leg and lay back down.

For a time, he was absorbed with his own misery. But he became aware of her trying to free her wrists.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"My hands are numb."

"Do you need something for it?"

Now, wasn't he being a good Boy Scout? Not only was he keeping his hands off her at her request, he was also offering to render aid.

 _Come on, Damon Salvatore. You don't do good. You are evil, remember?_

"If you are so concerned about my wrist, you could remove the bandana."

"Not a chance."

"Please."

"No. Don't ask me anymore." Screw Boy Scouting.

They were close enough for him to feel every breath she took, and desire wasn't something that retreated upon command. But there were barriers between them more impenetrable than a steel bolster. Although he was a kidnapper, he wasn't a rapist. Anyway, she would have said no, so it wasn't going to happen no matter what, so he ordered himself to stop thinking about it and go to sleep.

He lay there for a long time, wide awake and about as relaxed as a two-by-four. He sensed she was finding it equally difficult to fall asleep again. He wasn't particularly in the mood for a chat, but he feared if he didn't break the strained silence, his jawbone was going to crack. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

"Why do you have to be so mean?"

He sat up and looked down at her. "Excuse me?"

"Why don't you let people see the good in you? I know you are not a bad person."

"I'm not a bad person?" he repeated on an incredulous laugh. "Did you make it up so that I would keep my hands off you?"

"Go to hell," she said angrily.

A long silence stretched between them.

"Because when people see good, they expect good," he said finally. "And I don't want to have to live up to anybody's expectations."

Elena just looked at him.

Slowly, he repositioned himself until his face hovered above hers, until his hands, were clasped on either side of her face, and he could feel her breasts rising and falling beneath him, and taste her breath on his lips.

He laid his cheek along hers, rubbed his nose against her earlobe, inhaled her scent. For one forbidden moment, he imagined his mouth being intimate with hers, his hands exploring, that demanding part of himself being enveloped by her body.

The images were so real, he moaned with longing. But he pulled back.

When he did, she opened her eyes. They reflected her confusion. "Damon?"

"God knows I want you," he said huskily. "But I won't take you. I won't give you a reason to hate me."

* * *

 **What do you guys/gals think? I hope you have enjoyed reading this story so far. It is definitely a challenging task to write this story but I'm enjoying it. Watch the space...there will be some unexpected twists soon:) Thank you for the support so far. I really appreciate all the kind words in the review.  
**


	13. Chapter 13

Damon was standing in front of a window in the living room, sipping a cup of coffee and watching the rain when he heard her come up behind him.

They hadn't spoken a word after what had happened last night. This morning, he had removed the bandana and gotten up without waking her.

"There is coffee in the kitchen," he told her.

She grunted and detoured into the kitchen.

Nonchalantly, he resumed his contemplation of the weather. The mountain was curtained by a heavy rain that showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. It was a good thing there were enough supplies to last a couple of days.

The weather was keeping them inside the cabin. Didn't it stand to reason that it would also keep everyone else out? When would Wes call again? Within the next ten minutes?

Or would it take another week?

He had put back the battery into Trevor's phone this morning but there were no miss calls since he contacted Wes.

There was no doubt Wes had to talk to his partner about the deal.

Damon hoped it was sooner rather than later. The house seemed to be shrinking around them. He was beginning to feel the squeeze, and the pressure was getting to him. Lying beside her last night, he had been aware of each breath she took. Every time she moved, he knew about it.

Dressed in the over-sized black T-shirt, she looked softer and sexier. Without makeup, her cheeks rosy from sleep, her hair tousled, she looked as warm and snuggly and innocent as a kitten. And as erotic as hell.

It was becoming impossible for him to ignore the desire she aroused in him, and had since the first time he laid eyes on her.

He had to get things done quickly. He got the phone out from his breast pocket, got to the call memory and pressed his thumb against the screen.

Wes answered after the first ring. "All right, asshole," he said in his garbled voice. "One million. I have already notified an offshore bank that I will be making a wire transfer in that amount. After I get indisputable confirmation of the kill, of course."

"The deal you have with your partner is worth more than a million."

"You are too greedy."

"Don't think so," Damon said. "Everyone has a price and my price is definitely higher than one million."

"What do you want?" Wes growled.

"Tell your partner I have a business proposal for him," Damon said. "The next time I call you, I want to talk to your partner."

"Forget it."

"Take it or I will bring her to the FBI." Damon waited several beats, then said a brusque "Alive" and clicked off.

The sound of glass shattering spun him around. Eyes wide and lips trembling, Elena stared at him. Ponderous moments passed with neither of them moving, then she took off like a sprinter. He barely managed to grab the sleeve of her T-shirt and hold on as he pulled her back. She came around swinging, her fist landing hard on his cheekbone.

"Goddammit!" The pain brought sudden tears to his eyes. He lost his grip on her top, and she got about a foot away from him before he lunged after her. He caught her from behind in a bear hug and pinned her arms to her sides.

"Stop it! Listen! You don't have to die!"

She kept struggling, until she realized the futility of her struggle and what he was saying sank in. Her hair swept across his face as she whipped her head around and looked at him over her shoulder. "What?"

"Are you going to listen? Or act like a madwoman until you force me to shoot you just to get rid of you?" She didn't say anything but ceased straining to break his hold. Not completely trusting her capitulation, he relaxed the bear hug, but took her arm and pulled her back to the sofa. "Sit down."

She sat on the edge of the sofa, but looked ready to jump up at any second.

He touched his throbbing cheekbone with the heel of his hand. The skin hadn't split, but it was swelling. "That hurt like bloody hell."

"Don't expect an apology."

He removed the battery from Trevor's phone, but as he slid the two components into one pocket, he withdrew another phone from his other pocket. Recognizing the logo on the case, she sat up at attention.

"That's mine."

"That's right."

"Give it back to me."

He opened the back of her phone and inserted the battery. "By powering it up, I'm taking a chance that the signal will be triangulated and bring the law right to us."

She narrowed her eyes. "What game are you playing now?"

"This is not a game. I want you to trust me."

She stared at him. Eyes widened. "Trust you? You want to kill me!"

"Elena, calm down."

That touched a nerve. "Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down? I had seen you kill a man. You kidnap me, tie me up and you are making a deal with the person who wants me dead. You expect me to be okay with it?"

Unruffled, he watched her for a moment, giving her time to simmer down, then said, "I didn't expect you to be okay with it. I just want you to trust me."

She jumped to her feet. "You want me to trust you? I don't know who you are and what you want. You are supposed to kill me but you shot your partner instead. You won't let me go home and drag me all the way from Richmond to Atlanta. And now you are making a deal with the person who wants me dead. How can I trust you?" By now she was shouting.

"You have got to believe me!"

"I can't!"

"Please, listen, I—"

Glass shattered.

Cold air rushed at them.

Damon pulled his gun holstered on his belt when he sensed a shift in the air, a sudden motion behind him. Even before he fully registered these sensations, he was propelled against the floor, where he landed hard and his gun fell off from his hand. A strong hand clamped the back of his head, banging his face down onto the floor with enough force to make him feel lightheaded.

"Damon!"

He heard Elena's shout. "No!" he shouted. "Run."

Hot breath filled his ear. "Too bad she is going to die."

She ran for the bedroom. If she could lock herself inside the room only long enough to ask for help, there was a chance that both of them could survive.

But she was still a long way from the room when the attacker's arm hooked her around the waist. He pushed her face first onto the floor and landed hard on top of her, knocking the breath out of her. Slapping his hand over her forehead, he pulled her head back against his shoulder. She felt the blade of his knife against the soft area beneath her jawbone.

"No!" Damon ran towards them.

The attacker's head came around and, seeing Damon, he released his hold on Elena, spread his arms away from his body like wings, and launched himself towards Damon.

They tumbled together down onto the floor in a jumble of arms and legs. Damon was the first to disentangle himself and sprang to his feet, but the attacker surged out of a crouch with his knife aimed at Damon's belly.

Both men stared at each other for several seconds, and then Damon moved first, falling back several feet and landing on his butt. He bent his head down to look at the knife jutting from his abdomen.

A shot boomed in the house at the same time.

"You bitch," the attacker grated.

Damon looked up and saw Elena holding his gun in her hands. The attacker swore savagely and glared at Elena. Blood was spilling down his left arm and onto the floor.

"Don't move," she ordered. "Or I will shoot you again."

"Bitch," the attacker said, his voice harsh with rage. "You will pay for what you did to me."

Damon loomed behind the man and brought a vase down on the man's skull in a sweeping motion.

Damon bared his teeth. "You will pay for what you did, you son of a bitch!"

The man grunted and collapsed, groaning. Elena stared at the fallen man and then looked at Damon.

Damon gave her a thin smile. "That was brave. But remember…if you are ever in a similar situation…go for the kill."

"Are you okay?" she asked as she sprang towards him.

"Jesus, it hurts like hell," he said, hissing in pain before he dropped to his knees. He could feel beads of sweat popping out on his forehead.

"I will call 911."

Shaking his head had only made him more lightheaded and dizzy, so he didn't respond at all.

"If you don't get help, you could die."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No!"

"If I die, you are free to go."

She caught his chin in her hand and forced his head around to look at her. "I'm not going to let you die on me. Here, let me help." She moved to his side and slid one arm beneath his shoulders, the other beneath his waist. "I will support your upper body while you use your feet—"

"Just do it."

It took three tries, which must have been agonizing for him, but she got him onto the sofa. By the time he went limp, he was sweating from every pore, and his lips were compressed so tightly they were rimmed with white.

"I think there is a first aid kit in the bathroom. Wait here." Favouring the hell where the sliver of glass was embedded, she curried from the living room.

In the bathroom, she frantically searched the shallow medicine cabinet, knocking several over-the-counter medications into the sink. Finally, she found what she was looking for.

When she returned, Damon managed to remain sitting, although at a slant.

"You need to go to the hospital."

"Get the rest of those bandanas." He motioned towards the kitchen. "Tie him up before he is awake."

"We need to call 911…"

"Tie him up now! If he wakes up now, I won't be able to stop him from killing us."

She did as she was told. When she had finished, she saw Damon took the bottle of disinfectant on the coffee table, removed the cap, then poured it over the knife that had his T-shirt pinned to his torso. She watched with alarm as he grasped it with thumbs and fingers of both hands.

"What are you doing?"

He blinked sweat from his eyes. "Move back. If he sliced an artery, you are going to get squirted."

"You are going to bleed to dead!" she yelped.

"Have a couple of those bandanas handy. Soon as the knife is out—"

"You can't do that!"

"I'm not looking forward to it."

It was a toss-up whether or not to remove it. It could be acting as a plug to prevent serious bleeding. But if he left it in there, he would die of infection or tetanus, and neither would be easy or quick. If he died in a geyser of arterial blood, at least it wouldn't take too long.

"I'm not going to let you do it!"

"Don't! Stay where you are!" Damon snarled causing her to stay where she was.

"Please," she said, her voice ragged. "Let me call—"

Before she talked him out of it, he pulled on the knife sticking out of him, testing how firmly and deeply it was embedded. Just that tug almost caused him to black out. He inhaled deeply several times, braced himself mentally, then pulled as hard as he could. The knife tore through his flesh as it came free. Blood spilled warmly down his belly.

A thousand noisy flapping wings swarmed toward him, obscuring his vision. Bells tolled inside his head. His skin became slick with sweat. His stomach heaved, filling the back of his throat with stinging bile. He gave up his fight with gravity and collapsed onto the sofa.

He was vaguely aware of Elena bending over him, packing the wound with the squares of camo print.

"Elena?"

He wasn't sure if he spoke her name or merely thought it.

But he must've said it because, she snapped, "What?"

"Why—"

"Shut up, I'm busy."

"Why—"

"Don't talk to me! You silly man!"

He wasn't sure if he was hallucinating. He thought he saw tears streaked her face.

"You are crying?" His voice was barely audible.

"No. No, I'm not! You jerk!"

More tears overflowed her eyes and slid down her cheeks. "You are the silliest man I have ever seen in my entire life!"

"Yeah," he confessed gruffly. "I'm the silliest jerk in this world."

"Then let me call 911."

"Why aren't you running for the road? I can't stop you now."

"I'm a doctor. I won't let someone die without doing anything." She guided his hand down and placed it over the cloth. "Keep pressure on it."

"You are lying."

Startled, she looked at him. "What?"

"You like the kiss."

"The kiss?"

"You like it when we kiss."

"No, I don't." She flashed him an angry glance and stood up. "I'm going to get help. You have a serious stabbed wound. We have no way of knowing the extent of the internal injuries until you are in the hospital." She looked around the place. "Where is the phone? I'm pretty sure it is here."

"I'm not lying," he said.

"What?"

"I wasn't lying last night when I said I want you." He closed his eyes and breathed hard through his nostrils as though to stave off waves of pain. "I still do."


	14. Chapter 14

When Damon opened his eyes again, rain was beating against the windows like a shower of ball bearings. Elena was pressing hard on his wound.

"Will you please stop that? It hurts like a son of a bitch."

Her brow was furrowed. "Damon, I need to stop the bleeding!"

"What time is it?" He crooked his left arm and blinked the numerals on his wristwatch into focus.

"Almost mid-day."

"How long have I been out?" Although he had to clench his jaw to keep from moaning, he struggled up so he could check for himself.

"Stay still!" she ordered. "You are going to bleed again if you move."

"Mouthy," he hissed.

"I'm the doctor and you are the patient. You have to listen to me," she said firmly.

"Still mouthy."

She narrowed her eyes. "Tell me something. Are you trying to get a rise out of me, or does being this irritating come naturally to you?"

Damon's eyes flickered over her with amusement. "I suppose I may be trying to annoy you a little."

"Why?" Elena asked in exasperation.

He seemed to think about this. "Maybe because I can. Quite easily, apparently."

"Seriously, how can you still act like this when there is a chance you are going to die?"

"You won't be able to escape if I'm not dead," he said dryly. "You want me dead."

"I told you, and I meant it, that I didn't want you to die."

He smiled a little. "I like it when you are mouthy."

"You are a terrible person."

He smirked. "But you like it."

"No, I don't," she retorted. "You have been a terrible person..."

He interrupted her. "What was that?"

"What?" She followed the direction of his gaze to the glass windows. "Lightning. It has been flashing off and on for at least half an hour…"

"Did you call 911?"

She blinked a couple of times. "Yes, you need help. I found my phone…"

"Dammit!"

She gaped at him as she watched him trying to get up. "What are you doing? You can't…"

"Be quiet!"

"Damon…"

A voice called out. "I'm Deputy Robertson. Someone called for help."

"We need an ambulance…." Elena shouted.

She couldn't finish her sentence as Damon clamped his left hand over her mouth. "Be quiet!"

"Please identify yourself," the deputy said. "We know you are in there."

"Stop!" Damon ordered. "Do not come in!"

"Who is hurt?" the deputy shouted back.

He removed his hand from her mouth and blinked hard to keep from passing out from the pain as he struggled to sit. "Don't say another word."

"Miss Gilbert, are you alright?" the deputy called out again.

She looked at Damon, who nodded his permission for her to speak.

"Yes. But…but we need help—"

"Enough!" Damon said.

"Who is hurt?" the deputy asked again.

Elena looked at him with evident concern. "Please, Damon, you need to go to the hospital…"

He held her gaze for a brief moment, and then he stifled a laugh of self-deprecation. "Robertson, you ready to parley?"

x x x

"This must be the place," Alaric said as Tanner rounded a bend in the road.

Through the rain, light bars of several squad cars were flashing their tricolour warning. Some of the vehicles were parked end to end along the shoulder; one was sideways in the middle of the road. A state trooper, outfitted in a slicker, alighted from the passenger side and came over as Tanner rolled to a stop and lowered the driver's window.

Andie had informed them that a woman identifying herself as Elena Gilbert had called 911 asking for help in Atlanta. The FBI had also managed to locate the signal from Elena's phone this morning.

A waterfall of rainwater flowed from the brim of the trooper's hat as he dipped his head and peered in at them. "Agent Saltzman?"

"I'm Tanner. This is Agent Saltzman."

The trooper acknowledged them in turn and introduced himself. "The house is about half a mile up the road, which has turned to mush in this rain."

"Is this the only road in and out?"

"Yes, sir. Dead-ends at the building, which backs up to wetlands."

"We don't know if he has a vehicle, but we have to assume so. If he somehow eludes us—"

"He will have to get past all of us here, and that isn't going to happen."

Alaric liked the trooper's confidence. "We don't know what kind of arsenal he has, so be careful."

"You all, too."

The trooper backed away and signalled the driver of the unit parked sideways to pull forward. Once they were past the roadblock, Tanner followed the trooper's flashlight as he motioned him into a left turn.

The road was mush. They slip-slid for the approximate half mile until they came to a a magnificent house made of native stone and cedar and surrounded by wooden decks, with huge expanses of glass.

"How the hell did he find this place?" Tanner said. "No wonder we can't find them."

"Andie told me that this house belongs to Joseph Salvatore."

"Joseph Salvatore?"

"His great grandfather."

Parked in front of it were numerous squad cars, several official SUVs, and two ambulances. Law enforcement personnel were outfitted in rain gear, making it difficult to differentiate the various departments represented unless their backs were to Alaric and he could read the reflective letters on their slickers. Most reassuring to him was that there were plenty of them, signifying a lot of firepower.

As Tanner carefully steered their car across the road, one of the officers separated himself from the rest and came slogging toward them. Alaric motioned for him to join them inside the car. He opened the backseat door and got in, mumbling an apology for slinging rainwater.

Alaric asked him if there had been any change since they'd last talked.

"Nothing."

"So you don't know for sure that she is still alive."

"She was when I got here. Last thing Salvatore said was that he would surrender to you and you only. Since he laid down that condition, there has been nothing from him but silence, and I have tried several times to engage him. Her, too. Not a peep. But if he has killed her, he didn't use a gun. No shots have been fired."

"She didn't tell you why an ambulance was needed?"

"No. I asked several times which of them was hurt. Got no answer. I guess the son of a bitch meant it when he said he wouldn't talk to anybody except you."

Alaric dragged his hand down his face. "Okay. I will talk to him."

"If you think I'm letting you go in there by yourself, think again," Tanner said.

"That is what Salvatore wants."

"Screw what he wants. That guy is crazy."

"Which he swore to shoot one by one if they stormed the place," Deputy Robertson said.

"Till they kill him," Tanner argued.

"Or he kills her."

Alaric's words fell like bricks and crushed Tanner's argument. He said shit under his breath and turned to address Alaric. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Alaric gave him a vapid smile. "I'm wearing a vest."

"He is a head-shot guy."

Alaric grinned. "Don't worry, I won't let him kill me."

x x x

Damon had been aware of the assemblage beyond the door, but neither he nor Elena had remarked on the arrivals of other vehicles, the new sets of voices, the lights periodically slicing across the front door and penetrating the windows.

He had heard the men scuttling along the exterior, looking for a way in, or a possible escape route for him. They were wasting their time. He wasn't going to escape.

It was coming up on two hours since the deputy had arrived, and time had become an important factor. Damon was fully aware that he was losing too much blood. Several times Elena had pleaded with him not to wait for the FBI agent to arrive, but rather to surrender himself to the officers already there, to let paramedics take emergency measures before transporting him to the nearest hospital.

It had been a tempting proposition, but he remained undeterred. "We wait for the fed."

Having grown increasingly lightheaded, he had been lying down for the past twenty minutes. Elena sat beside him, looking worried.

He thought back to how she had looked in that bar. A knockout. Upon getting his up-close look at her, his centre had tightened and warmed with awareness and want, and he had thought, Damn.

Then he remembered the first time he had met her six months ago in the alley where the Strangler had captured her. He would never forget the way she had looked at him that night. She was stunning and in a way special.

And she had turned out to be exactly as he had believed. Sexy, smouldering, stubborn, fascinating. Just the way he had liked. Maybe it was those brown doe eyes.

He knew everything in his carefully ordered world would shift and change the moment he decided to save her from being killed by Trevor.

"Are you scared?" he asked.

"I'm not scared."

"Being so mouthy will scare off your boyfriend," he teased.

Her reaction to that was swift and angry. "This is not the time to talk about this."

"You are almost thirty-one, never been married and, according to Trevor, hasn't dated seriously in months. All indications are that you are a meek, lonely, little spinster who lives for your work."

"My relationship is none of your business," she said coldly.

"Being mouthy doesn't appeal to all men."

"Oh, just shut up!"

They both fell silent for a few seconds. Finally, Elena asked, "Why did you do all these?"

"What?"

"You know…kidnap, kill people…"

"I do it for the money," he said carelessly.

"I don't believe you."

He held her gaze for several seconds, then closed his eyes. "You don't have to."

"I don't believe you would kill me."

He didn't answer.

Suddenly the quiet was shattered by his name being boomed through a speaker and reverberating through the house. He sprang bolt upright and almost blacked out from the reflexive movement and the riot of pain it caused.

"This is Special Agent Alaric Saltzman, FBI. Damon Salvatore?"

"Yeah. And I'm not deaf. Turn off that damn bullhorn."

After a pause of several seconds, the agent spoke to them in a voice no longer amplified but loud enough to carry. "All right, you asked for me, you got me. I'm coming in."

"Alone and unarmed," Damon said.

"I'm both."

A silhouette appeared in the open doorway, arms extended at his sides, fingers spread wide to show that his hands were empty.

"Miss Gilbert?"

Damon nudged her with his elbow. "Answer him but do not move."

She cleared her throat. "Agent Saltzman? I'm here."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm fine. But Damon is seriously wounded."

"How so?"

"Someone attacked us this morning…"

Damon said, "I got stuck in the gut but he isn't better." He glanced at the attacker who was being tied up. He was groaning in pain.

Alaric took a moment to process that. "There is another man inside the house?"

"Yes," Elena answered.

"Is he dead?" Alaric asked.

Damon said, "The bastard got shot in the shoulder. He will live."

Alaric let that sink in. "Surrender, Mr Salvatore. You will receive immediate medical attention. You have my word."

Elena grabbed Damon's hand. "Please, Damon, please…"

Damon drew in a deep breath, and released it slowly. Turning his head to bring their faces close, and speaking in a voice only she could hear, he said, "To answer your question…The moment I laid eyes on you, your life was spared."

She took that in, her throat constricting with emotion. "So all this time I have been safe from you?"

"Safe from me?" He gave a grim smile and shook his head. "Not for a single second."

He held her stare for several beats more, then, removed his hand from hers. "Go."

"Damon—"

"Go!" His whisper was harsh, emphatic.

Sounding alarmed, Alaric shouted from the doorway. "Miss Gilbert, what going on?"

Damon said, "Go!"

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Jesus!" He flashed her an angry stare. "Will you get the hell away from me?"

She hesitated a second more, then made to stand up, but Damon grabbed her arm. "Alert him, so he won't blast you."

"Agent Saltzman," she called shakily. "I'm coming out. All right?"

"Is he armed?"

"No."

Elena stood up, turned away from him, and started walking slowly towards the front door. She was walking unsteadily. As she neared him, she raised her hands in surrender. Both her hands and her clothing were liberally bloodstained.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Okay, just like that," Alaric said, "with arms raised." He jerked his head towards the open door behind him. "Now. Tanner?"

"Here!"

"She is coming out."

She scurried past Alaric and through the door. Alaric stayed where he was, but he could hear Tanner speaking to her quietly and urgently. After a moment, Alaric spoke softly over his shoulder. "Tanner, can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Is she all right?"

"Shaking like a leaf. Dazed. Otherwise okay."

"What did she say about him?"

"Badly wounded."

"Is he armed?"

"She says no."

Alaric took several deep breaths to bolster himself mentally and physically for whatever might occur in the next few minutes, then called out Salvatore's name.

"I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me," Damon said. "What is taking you so long?"

"Are you armed?"

"No."

"Convince me."

Damon chuckled. "I'm almost a dead man. Why should I lie?"

As Alaric moved farther into the house, he gained a clearer view of the man sitting on the sofa. He was angled thirty degrees to his right, bracing himself on that arm. His left hand was pressed against his left side, which he was obviously favouring.

"Raise your hands," Alaric said.

Grimacing, Damon shifted into a more upright position and removed his left hand from his side, then did as ordered. His face was waxy and pale. Sweat had plastered strands of hair to his forehead. Blood had soaked into his clothes and was smeared beneath him on the sofa.

Alaric gripped his extended pistol tighter. "Hands behind your head."

"Hands behind my head? That will hurt like a mother."

"I don't give a shit. Do it."

Either he was a damn good actor, or he really was in excruciating pain. Even the slightest motion caused him to gasp. He paused several times, switching between holding his breath and panting. It took him a full minute to do as Alaric had ordered, but when he was in the position, Alaric called out for Tanner and the others.

Alaric himself was nearly mowed down by the special ops officers in assault gear who charged into the house and rushed past him to form a ring around Salvatore, shouting at him not to move, their weapons primed to fire if he did.

As Salvatore was being cuffed, the paramedics were allowed in and, for the next five minutes, he was in their charge. While they performed triage, and got an IV started, Alaric glanced through the door to the outside.

Several officers, including Deputy Robertson, were grouped around Elena. Someone had draped a slicker over her. Alaric could see her lips moving, so he knew she was responding to Robertson's questions, but she was staring straight ahead through the door of the house, past him and Tanner, as though in a trance.

"She looks spooked," Alaric said. "Does she need medical attention?"

"She says no."

"They should at least put her in a car, get her out of the rain."

"They tried," Tanner said. "She wouldn't budge."

Alaric turned and met Tanner's gaze. Tanner raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

Another of the officers approached Alaric with a bagged object. "We found this in the living room. Looks like he was being stabbed by this."

"No wonder he is bleeding out," Alaric said. "Is he going to make it?"

"She is asking, too," Tanner answered. "Paramedic said it depends on what all was sliced and diced by the knife. Also on how tough he is."

"How is the other guy?" Alaric said. "Is he alright?"

"He will live according to the paramedic."

"Got an identity?"

"Gavin Mclean," Tanner said. "Used to work for Wes Maxfield but disappeared two years ago after killing an undercover DEA agent."

Alaric raised his brows. "Undercover DEA agent?"

"Yeah. The DEA had sent in their own undercover agent to make contact with Maxfield two years ago but Maxfield had figured out who the guy was."

Alaric thought about it. "I think I remember that. The DEA was too late by the time they came for the rescue."

"Ivan Stone was dead when the DEA arrived and Mclean had disappeared since then."

"Son of a bitch!" Alaric hissed.

He walked over to where the paramedics were transferring Damon onto a gurney. Robertson's man cuffed both his hands to the rails. During the process, Damon was jostled. That brought on an outburst of vile and profane language the likes of which Alaric hadn't heard since his wife had delivered their son breach. One of the paramedics assured Damon that the pain med he was getting intravenously would soon begin working.

Damon nodded at the paramedic, but his gaze had moved beyond him and connected with Alaric's. He looked him up and down and gave a derisive snort. "I didn't know the FBI was so hard up."

Alaric smiled. "We don't get paid as much like you."

Damon gave another snuffle of contempt and closed his eyes.

"It is over, Salvatore. We have found out your dirty past in Mexico." When Damon's eyes open, Alaric said, "You won't be so lucky this time."

Damon smirked. "It is not over yet, Agent Saltzman. You won't know who the winner is until the very end."

* * *

 **Thank you for all the support and kind words so far. Hopefully my reader will enjoy reading this chapter.**


	15. Chapter 15

_God knows I want you. But I won't take you. I won't give you a reason to hate me._

 _I wasn't lying last night when I said I want you. I still do._

 _The moment I laid eyes on you, your life was spared._

Elena came awake as suddenly as though someone had shoved her out of sleep.

She expected to find herself reclined with her hands and feet bound. It took several seconds for her to remember that she was in a hotel room

She was no longer a hostage but she wasn't in this hotel suite by choice.

According to the clock on the bedside table, it was six a.m. Throwing off the covers, she left the bed and went into the bathroom. After using the toilet, she closed the lid and sat on it, elbows on her knees, head in her hands.

Was Damon all right? Would he recover? Was he even alive?

Not knowing his current condition or prognosis was sheer torture.

Andie Starr, the FBI agent with whom she was sharing the suite, had received calls at various times throughout the long afternoon and evening, but she had never divulged the nature of those calls to Elena.

When Elena had pretended to nap, she had intentionally left the bedroom door ajar, hoping to pick up enough tidbits of the one-sided conversations to piece together some solid answers to all the questions plaguing her.

But either Andie was aware of her eavesdropping or she had an unusually soft speaking voice. When Elena had given up the pretence of napping, emerged from the bedroom and asked the FBI agent point-blank if she had received any word on Damon Salvatore's condition, her answer had been "The last report, he was still in surgery."

That was all Elena had gotten from her, and she had no way of knowing whether or not that was the truth. "Still in surgery" could mean that he had died on the operating table and they had left him there.

The story of her rescue hadn't been reported until the last news broadcasts of the night. After consulting Agent Saltzman, Andie had permitted her to communicate with Jenna and her friends. Jenna and her friends became uncharacteristically emotional when they heard her voice. They expressed relief and gratitude that she was unharmed.

She did not provide them any details of her abduction and rescue, primarily because Andie had instructed her not to. "Something you say innocently might impede the investigation."

Elena didn't see how that was possible, but she didn't argue, because she wasn't ready to talk about those days spent with Damon Salvatore anyway.

She had no idea when she would be allowed to return to work and resume normal life. After talking with Jenna and her friends, she felt detached from reality and drained of energy. The remaining hours of the day had seemed to stretch emptily and endlessly ahead of her.

She had availed herself of the suite's Jacuzzi tub and had shampooed so vigorously she had made her scalp sting. She used a spare toothbrush to scrub the caked blood—Damon's blood—from beneath her fingernails.

Andie had brought along some clothing and toiletries for her. Elena was glad to swap clean clothes for those hopelessly blood-stained, although she was strangely reluctant to hand them over to Andie when she asked for them. Elena couldn't account for why she was inclined to hug them against her chest and not let go.

Since her arrival, they had ordered two room service meals. Elena should have been ravenous, but she had listlessly picked at the food. After drinking a half glass of minibar white wine, encouraged by Andie, she had pleaded exhaustion and gone to bed.

It surprised her now that she had slept at all, but she supposed that her body had demanded it whether she had desired it or not. The sleep had restored her physically, but she had come abruptly awake with her anxiety intact.

She was worried about Damon.

She was desperate to know whether he was still alive. In fact, she wanted him to be alive.

 _The moment I laid eyes on you, your life was spared._

Did he mean what he said?

But why was he being so mean to her at times?

 _I wasn't lying last night when I said I want you. I still do._

Damon had wanted her. He could have taken her that night but he didn't.

What was he thinking?

She didn't understand him. At all.

When she stepped into the bedroom, Andie was standing backlit in the doorway that opened into the living area of the suite.

Andie asked, "Everything okay?"

"I just needed the bathroom."

"Can I get you anything?"

"No thank you."

"I received a text from Alaric after you went to bed."

Elena's heart tripped. Damon?

"He would like to meet us at ten," Andie said, dashing her hope, and fear, of getting an update on Damon. She went on to tell Elena that she had ordered a Continental breakfast to be sent up at eight. "Unless you want me to order something else."

"No, that is fine."

Andie asked what time she wanted to be woken up. Elena gave her a time. "But wake me if you receive any news."

The FBI agent nodded but made no promises. "Get some more rest." She pulled the door closed as she went out.

Elena got back into bed, rolled onto her side, and curled into the foetal position.

What a mess.

She should have been brimming with happiness just for being alive. And she was.

But there was no real joy in it.

x x x

Damon knew he must be dreaming.

Or he must be dead.

He was standing in the centre of a circular room. The ceiling is transparent. He could see the night sky through it. High, gothic-style entrances to dozens of darkened halls ring the space.

Where was he?

Was he in heaven?

Maybe hell. Damon Salvatore wouldn't end up in heaven, would he?

But it didn't matter because he saw her.

Elena came towards him from one of the many corridors. He wanted to make love to her more than he had ever wanted anything in his adult life. But he was afraid that afterwards she would walk away from him and vanish into one of the mysterious halls.

She glided into the circular room, smiling a feminine invitation that made him ache with desire. She stopped in the shadows. Raising one hand, she beckoned him with a graceful curl of her fingertips.

He did not move.

"I thought you are afraid of me," he said.

"No," she said. "I'm afraid of wanting you this much."

"Will you let me touch you?" he asked.

She reached out to him with both hands. "Come with me."

He started towards her because, in spite of everything, he could not resist her.

But when he got close enough to touch her…

"How's he doing?"

"Oh, hello, Doctor. I thought you had left for the night."

"I was about to, but decided to check on him once more before I go."

"He has been stirring, but hasn't woken up. His vitals are good."

"Temperature?"

"Normal."

Damon wanted to snarl at the offender for the interruption, because he was almost touching Elena. He had not yet touched her but already he could feel the heavy pull of desire deep in his body.

Somewhere far in the back of his mind, Damon acknowledged that touching Elena was a bad idea, but now that he was doing it, not for the life of him could he stop. He wanted her so badly. He was obsessed with her,

If word of his obsession got around, he would become a laughingstock. His reputation was that of a hard-ass, a badass. Ruthless. Merciless. An unfeeling and unshakable son of a bitch. No one would expect bad Damon Salvatore to go soft over a woman.

But she was not just any woman. She was Elena Gilbert.

Oh, Jesus. Was he soft? No. He was hard. Wasn't he?

"I'm sorry, sir, you can't come in here."

"I'm Deputy Robertson."

"And I'm the surgeon who just repaired this guy's gut. He is still in recovery ICU. You have to leave."

"He is my prisoner."

"He is my patient."

Indifferent to their squabble, Damon ignored them. He wanted to touch Elena where it counted.

Because after what he had put her through, she should hate him. She should be afraid of him, but she wasn't. She was asking him to come with her.

"Salvatore? Salvatore? Can you hear me?"

"Deputy Robertson! What are you doing back in here?"

"Just checking to see if he has come around."

"He hasn't. And I heard the doctor ordering you out."

"Can Salvatore hear me?"

"He is unconscious."

"He could be faking it."

"He is still under anaesthesia. In any case, you must wait until after the doctor has checked him in the morning, and only then will he determine if the patient is up to being interrogated. It's not like he's going anywhere. Are these restraints really necessary?"

Somebody tugged on Damon's hand. It didn't move. Not that one. The other one was stroking Elena's cheek and she was smiling at him. Jesus, he liked the way she smiled. She was gorgeous.

"The restraints stay on. Both hands. Be sure the rest of the nursing staff understands that. Don't be taken in. He is dangerous. Two nights ago, he shot a man in the back of the head."

"Well, he is not going to shoot anybody tonight. Please, Deputy. I'm the one who will get into trouble if I allow you to stay in here. Please leave. He won't be fully conscious for hours yet."

They left. Thank Christ. Now he could enjoy this dream in peace.

x x x

He didn't like what he saw on the late newscasts.

According to the report, a man had attacked Elena Gilbert and her abductor in a mansion in Atlanta, and that had led to Elena's rescue and her abductor's arrest.

Good fortune for her. Disaster for the perpetrator.

Every blood vessel in his body was expanding with fury.

This was definitely a kick in the teeth. Clearly, retaining Wes Maxfield had been a mistake. But that was water under the bridge. He must think forward, not backward.

He stewed and reviewed and ultimately determined that there was an upside. Damon Salvatore was a write-off. The authorities had him for a capital crime. The nature of the beast was to lie, so nothing he said would be believed. And, anyway, he was a Johnny-come-lately on the scene. He didn't know anything of substance about the partnership.

Now Elena was alive and well and in the FBI's protective custody. This was not looking good.

She still had to die, but he wasn't going to rely on anyone else to do it. Enough with the hired help. He couldn't trust either their competency or their loyalty. Besides, taking on the chore himself was an exciting prospect. Death throes had a way of shattering cool reserve like hers. It stirred his blood to think of instilling mortal fear in the condescending bitch and then watching the life fade from her big brown eyes. He would enjoy that very much.

Don't blame me. Blame your father. You should have wished you aren't born a Gilbert.

Naturally there was some risk to do everything by himself, but the reward outweighed it. From now on, whenever he wanted something done properly and in a timely fashion, he would do it himself.

Starting now.

x x x

Damon resented sleep. He considered it a waste of time and disliked the vulnerability that necessarily accompanied it. He slept only when he had to and never for more than a few hours.

But he hadn't been conscious for long before wishing he could slip back into oblivion. Any given morning a hospital was a busy place, but it seemed that everybody on staff at this one had some business in his room.

Probably they just wanted to take a gander at the man handcuffed to his bed.

His vitals were taken. Twice. His blood was drawn. At least a quart. His floor was mopped. The guy seemed to delight in banging the mop into all four wheels of his bed. His IV was checked a dozen times by a dozen different people. His dressing was changed. The row of staples, like a miniature railroad track holding him together, was probed to test its durability. His urine output was measured and recorded before the bag was replaced.

Shortly after that humiliation, a male nurse showed up to give him a bed bath. He bent Damon like a pretzel, causing him to swear viciously. "Where did you get your training? Guantanamo?"

The next guy who breezed in was dressed in blue scrubs. "Remember me?"

"No."

"Didn't think you would." Skinny and spry, he introduced himself as the surgeon who had worked on him the day before. "We did several X-rays and scans, didn't find any organ damage. Your large intestine was missed by this much." He left a half inch between his thumb and index finger. "You also got by without a major blood vessel being cut. The wound was nasty, getting infected. I cleaned it out. Could have been a lot worse."

Damon said, "What is the bad news?"

"Your oblique was sliced through like a steak. Had to take lots of stitches, layers of them, starting deep inside and working out. So, it is going to be sore for a while. Take it easy. No heavy lifting. No strenuous exercise."

He seemed to remember the restraints keeping Damon secured to the bed, and looked like he wished he could take back that last bit. He continued briskly. "You were given a tetanus shot. If you start running a fever, get checked for infection. We are giving you IV antibiotics, and you will leave here with a butt-load of them plus capsules to last several weeks. Take them till they run out. Any questions?"

"When will the staples be removed?"

"Tomorrow if all is looking good. They are only a safety net. A physical therapist will get you up today, start you moving around."

Damon rattled the handcuffs.

"They have stationed a deputy outside the room," the surgeon said. "He will be on hand to…assist."

"When can we pull that thing out of my dick?"

The surgeon gave a lopsided grin. "I will send somebody in. But if you can't pee on your own, back in it goes."

"Then I will make damn sure I pee on my own."

"Good luck to you."

He breezed out. Fifteen seconds later, a uniformed man stalked in.

Damon rested his head on his pillow and closed his eyes.

"Morning."

Damon didn't return the greeting, but the officer didn't take the hint. Damon sensed him advancing into the room, stopping at the foot of the bed, looking down on him. "I rode in the ambulance with you yesterday, but you were pretty out of it. Deputy Robertson…"

"I remember you," Damon said. "I made the parley with you."

"It was lucky of you that we found you before you bled to dead."

"My luck," Damon muttered.

After a brief pause, Robertson asked how he was feeling.

"How do I look?"

"Like shit."

"That pretty much covers it."

The deputy waited a beat, then got down to business. "I need you to answer some questions."

Damon raised his head, opened one eye, and took a look around the room. "I don't see a lawyer." He closed his eye and returned his head to the pillow.

Undeterred, Robertson began relating facts that Damon already knew about the fatal shooting of Trevor Bolden. "Do you want to comment on any of that, Mr Salvatore?"

"Still don't see a lawyer. But if you stick around long enough, you might get to watch them remove my catheter."

"When did you become acquainted with Bolden?"

He asked a few dozen questions. Damon responded with sighs, yawns, and once by asking if Robertson would mind scratching an itch for him. "It is a lot to ask, I know, but it was washed during my sponge bath."

"Okay, talk smart," Robertson said. "Sooner or later you will realize that it is in your best interest to cooperate."

"No, it is in your best interest for me to cooperate." Looking beyond him, Damon added, "Unless I miss my guess, she is here to run you out."

Robertson turned to the nurse who had entered the room. "I'm sorry, but your ten minutes are up," she told him. "You can come back this afternoon between one and three."

Damon said, "That is if you have absolutely nothing better to do between one and three, because I'm not talking to you without a lawyer present."

"Actually, I'm sure there is someone you would like to talk to."

"Who?"

"You will know soon."

Damon made a scoffing sound. "Wish him or her luck because I'm not talking."

After Robertson left, the nurse checked his vitals again before leaving him alone. As he resettled on the hard pillow, his thoughts swirled around Elena.

What was she doing at the moment? Was she thinking about him? Where would she be at the moment?

The most important of all, was she safe?

Hearing murmured voices just outside his room, he raised his head as the door was eased open. When he saw who his new visitor was, he swore under his breath.

"Not a very nice greeting." Enzo St John, chief of DEA of San Francisco, came to the side of his bed and took him in from head to toe, tsking. "My, my. Look at you."

The agent tried and failed to contain a smirk. "You are in deep, deep doo-doo this time, Mr Salvatore. Up to your ungroomed eyebrows in Maxfield's doo-doo." More tsking. "Of course, a day and a half spent alone with Elena Gilbert was a fringe benefit." He winked.

Damon wanted to tear out the guy's jugular with his teeth.

"No wiggle room for you this time, my friend." Enzo leaned down and whispered with devilish glee, "Let's get this party started!"

* * *

 **Hope you guys/gals will enjoy this chapter. Sorry, there isn't much Delena in this chapter but this is how the story is heading. Continue to watch the space:)**


	16. Chapter 16

Elena kept the television in her bedroom tuned to the network morning shows, anticipating the local stations' break-ins. Because of their brevity, her rescue was only touched upon, and there was no mention of Damon's condition. She paced until Andie knocked on her door and told her that Alaric and Tanner had arrived.

"What is Damon Salvatore's condition?" she blurted the moment she saw the. "Did he make it through the surgery all right?"

The two men exchanged an uneasy glance.

Elena's stomach plummeted. "He died?"

Alaric cleared his throat. "No. He came through the surgery okay and was expected to make a full recovery."

She tried to keep her relief from being too obvious. But then she caught the tense of the verb. "Was expected?"

"Salvatore is en route to a trauma centre. His condition is a lot more serious this time."

Elena's ribs seemed to shrink around her lungs. She couldn't take in sufficient air. "Oh, my God! Is he going to make it?"

"The admin guy described him as being critical. Of course, he is not a doctor."

She wheezed. "What happened?"

Alaric's frown deepened. "The chief of DEA from San Francisco heard about Salvatore's capture and went to see him in the hospital this morning."

"DEA?"

"The DEA has been going after Wes Maxfield all these years and they want to know about Salvatore's involvement with Maxfield. No one knows exactly what was said between them. Salvatore started yanking on his restrain and when they tried to restrain him, his wound started bleeding." Alaric paused, then resumed. "Badly."

"Wound dehiscence," Elena muttered.

Alaric looked at her. "Are you okay, Miss Gilbert?"

She nodded.

"They are trying their best…"

She covered her mouth, whimpering. "But they didn't expect him to survive?"

"We aren't sure at this stage." Alaric hesitated, then resumed. "Are you sure you are okay, Miss Gilbert.?"

"Damon Salvatore was, is, a violent man, Miss Gilbert," Tanner said. "With heinous crimes to his credit."

She merely nodded.

Alaric said, "I know you have mixed feelings about this."

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

She raised her head and looked at Alaric, who seemed genuinely puzzled. "He wasn't violent with me. He frightened me, but didn't do anything heinous. He was offered a lot of money to kill me." She raised her shoulders. "He didn't."

"He didn't mistreat you, Miss Gilbert?" Alaric asked.

Her head shake indicated that he hadn't.

"He has a history of violence," Tanner said. "You are lucky to be alive, and, frankly, your concern for his welfare is misplaced. If you don't mind me saying so."

"Well, I do mind you saying so," she snapped. "He is a human being. This is a human life we are talking about."

"I fail to see why that should negate the fact that he is a convicted murderer and he had taken you hostage."

"I have already told you that he wasn't violent with me," she said, deciding that she didn't like Tanner at all.

"Very well." Alaric quickly interposed in a soothing voice and gestured towards the chairs in the room. "You tell us what happened. Let's start with when you first encountered with Damon Salvatore."

Elena sat down and tried not to feel any emotion at all. "I had a drink with my friends after work. When I came outside, a man came towards me with a gun."

"Do you know the man?" Tanner asked.

Elena shook her head.

"What happened next?"

"He was shot."

"Who shot him?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Elena shook her head. "It happened so fast…I was unconscious."

"He knocked you unconscious?"

"I don't remember that, either. When I woke up, I was already in his pickup."

"Okay, then…Miss Gilbert, you must be able to remember something more about where he brought you to."

She shook her head again. "We were in a cabin but I don't know where we were. It was very foggy. And please, call me Elena—it is shorter and takes less time than Miss Gilbert."

"Why did he take you to Atlanta?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask him?" Tanner asked.

"He didn't say."

"He didn't say?" Tanner said, pouncing on her answer. "You don't want to tell us the truth, do you?"

Elena raised her brows. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You are covering something, aren't you?" Tanner demanded.

She glared at him. "That's not true!"

"There is no need to feel defensive," Alaric intervened again. "Agent Hickam is compelled to do his duty and help see that justice was done to a convicted murderer who also happens to be a kidnapper now."

Leaning back in her chair, she gazed at him with a mixture of disdain and frustration. "I don't believe for one minute that Damon would hurt me. He was offered a lot of money to kill me but he didn't. He tried to save my life. Twice."

There was a brief silence.

"I hate to interrupt, Agent Saltzman."

At the sound of the new voice in the room, three pairs of eyes swung towards the door. There stood Andie Starr.

"What's up?"

"I just received a call. Miss Gilbert's attorney is here."

x x x

Isobel Fleming and Liam Davis were waiting in a meeting room at the lobby. A few moments later, Elena walked into the room. Alaric, Andie and Tanner followed behind her.

Liam was the first to stand up. "I'm Liam Davis, Miss Gilbert's attorney. This is Isobel Fleming, personal assistant of the late Mr Grayson Gilbert."

Everyone shook hands and said the polite words.

"Miss Gilbert has the right to have an attorney present when she is being questioned," Liam said.

Elena frowned. "I don't need an attorney."

"Yes, you do," Liam insisted. "We are here to help you."

"That is fine," Alaric said. "But time is of the essence right now, and we have questions that need answers."

"Can we please finish this as soon as possible?" Elena said. "I want to get out of here."

"Very well, then," Alaric said abruptly, taking over as soon as they were seated. "Let's begin. Did Damon Salvatore contact anyone in the past few days?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Wes Maxfield."

"Do you know him?"

Elena shook her head. "He told me Wes Maxfield wanted to kill me."

"Why did he want to kill you?"

"I don't know."

Tanner raised his brows. "You don't know?"

"My client is the victim," Liam said.

"Why did Damon Salvatore call Wes Maxfield?" Alaric asked.

Elena shook her head again.

"Please answer," Tanner ordered.

"I said I don't know!" she retorted.

Liam intervened. "My client has affirmed that she doesn't know."

Tanner scoffed at that. "You believe that? She spent the past few days with him and she didn't know why he made the phone call to Wes Maxfield?"

"I have no idea, okay?" Elena felt her temper rising. "I came out of the bar after a drink with my friends and the next thing I saw was a man coming after me with a gun. Then someone's head exploded in front of me. Next I was told someone wanted me dead." She put her fingertips to her temples and massaged them. "This is crazy!"

"I think that is enough for today," Liam intervened, his voice as pleasant as his smile. "Miss Gilbert has been through a lot and she is exhausted. If the FBI wants to continue the questioning, please contact me and I will organise another meeting."

"Alright," Alaric said. "We can continue this later this afternoon or tomorrow."

"You can't," Isobel said.

Everyone turned to look at her.

"Elena is flying back to San Francisco this afternoon with us."

x x x

The private Boeing 707-320 was making its final approach to San Francisco Airport, gliding out of the stacked-up traffic pattern. It hadn't been a long flight but Elena still felt exhausted. She had been unable to sleep well last night. Liam and Isobel told her that John Gilbert was expecting her. She had not met him before but had heard about him from her mother.

The plane was on the ground now, taxiing toward the terminal. Elena carried very little luggage, and she was quickly ushered through Customs. Outside, the sky was grey and bleak, a foretaste of the winter to come. A limousine was waiting at the side entrance to drive him to Grayson's mansion, where John would be waiting.

John wasn't the only one waiting for her. When they walked out of the airport, they got mobbed by reporters before Elena could get inside the limousine. The FBI agents were already waiting for them at the airport. She was told she was under protective custody. Sure, she had known the situation was serious – someone wanted her dead and she was kidnapped. She twisted around in her seat and saw that most of the cars tailing them were staying even with the limousine. She didn't know how she was going to stay insane if people didn't leave her alone for a while so that she could rest and think.

It took about half an hour from the airport before they arrived to the Gilbert mansion where Grayson used to live and now it belonged to her, according to Liam.

At the top of the hill as the driver made the last turn, the drive widened and swept in a wide arc through manicured lawns and giant trees, barren now in winter. There was a harsh austerity about the sprawling stone house that made Elena oddly uneasy as the limousine pulled to a stop on the brick-paved entry in front of the steps. Gathering up her small bag which mainly consisted of some toiletries, she got out of the car and stopped, looking around at the house and its setting, delaying the moment of reckoning. Grayson had built this mansion, and it seemed to her this place had left its mark on his personality; it was like him in a way—formidable, proud, solid, impressive.

That made her feel better, braver, as she followed Isobel and Liam, and walked up the steps towards the wide arched door. Firmly suppressing the inexplicable premonition of doom that was trying to steal over her, she reminded herself that she had come here because of Grayson.

An ancient butler with stooped shoulders answered the door wearing a dark suit and bow tie. He smiled warmly at Elena. "You must be Miss Gilbert. I'm Jack."

"How do you do?" Elena smiled back. She likes him already. "What a beautiful home."

"Thanks. Lord knows I work myself to the bone keeping it that way. Not that I get any thanks for it. Come on in, Miss Gilbert. Your uncle is waiting for you."

Elena followed him down a wide hall and then passed in front of him as he opened a door and gestured her into a large room with a massive stone fireplace and an Oriental carpet spread across a polished dark wood floor. A pair of high-backed chairs upholstered in a faded tapestry were positioned facing the fireplace. There was a table covered with silver-framed photographs, and then she saw that the wall on the left was covered with large portraits.

Behind her a voice said, "You must be Elena."

Whirling around, Elena turned around to find a distinguished looking man in his fifties man standing at the doorway. There was a startling resemblance between this man and Grayson.

"I'm John Gilbert."

Elena bobbed her head and smiled benignly.

"Would you like a glass of wine or some coffee, Elena?" Isobel asked.

"Coffee would be lovely," Elena answered.

Jack made coffee in record time, put cups and saucers on a tray, and returned to the living room to serve them. "I have made up your room, Miss Gilbert. Once you have finished here, I will show you to your room so you can freshen up before dinner."

Elena smiled at Jack. "Thank you."

John took a sip of his coffee. "I'm glad you have come, Elena." He hesitated, then resumed. "I'm sorry about your father."

Elena nodded, her head high. "Thank you, John."

"Now that Elena is here, why don't we begin?" Liam smiled reassuringly. "This won't take long."

John said, "Well, I'm sure you are aware that you will be taking over your father's place at Gilbert & Company but I know you have a wonderful career in Richmond."

"Yes."

"So, this is going to be a problem."

Elena raised her brows. "What do you mean?"

John explained, "I think it is fair to say that you won't give up your career in Richmond. Am I right?"

"Yes, I have always…"

John didn't let her finish. "We have no problems that can't be solved."

Liam picked up some papers, rose and carried them to Elena. "I have had all the necessary documents prepared. All you have to do is sign."

Elena glanced at the papers lying before her. "What are these?"

"Sell all your shares to me," John said. "When your share is sold, you will have an enormous amount of money, more than you will ever be able to spend. You can go off anywhere you like and enjoy it."

What John said made sense. Why should she get involved? All she had to do was sign the papers in front of her, and leave.

Damon's words came back to her….

 _There is one hell of a squabble going on at Gilbert & Company at the moment. Something to do with a merger proposal_

 _Gilbert & Company is a big pie and everyone wants a piece of it._

 _When drugs are involved, there is always someone around who is happy to kill someone else. It is just part of the business._

 _I didn't kill your father, Elena. Someone did._

John said impatiently, "Elena, we are simply wasting time. This is the best choice for you."

It was at that instant that Elena knew she had to figure out what was going on. She could walk away and let them do as they pleased with the company, or she could stay and find out why John was so eager to buy her shares, why the other directors were eager to agree with the merger proposal.

She glanced over at Isobel, wondering what she was thinking. Her expression was noncommittal. She had been Grayson's assistant/secretary for a long time. Elena wished she could have had a chance to speak to her alone.

"I'm not going to sign," she said. "Not now."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then John said, "I don't understand, Elena." His face was ashen. "You are not interested in your father's business. Why won't you sign?"

She could not say: Because my father would not agree. Because you are rushing me. She had a feeling, an instinct that something was wrong, and she was determined to find out what it was. So now she merely said, "I would like a little more time to think about it."

John exploded. "Damn it, Elena…"

Isobel cut in firmly. "I think Elena is right."

Everyone turned to look at her. Isobel continued, "She should have a chance to get involved in the company, and then make up her own mind."

"I agree with Isobel," Liam said.

There was a short, pregnant pause.

John said bitterly, "Fine. You are in charge of Gilbert & Company until you have made up your mind."

* * *

 **What do you guys/gals think? Sorry, there isn't Delena in this chapter. But trust me, there will be Delena soon. I just want to tell the story now and sometimes we can't have Delena all the time:)  
**

 **Hope you will enjoy this chapter.**


	17. Chapter 17

Jack slid a pan of sourdough biscuits into the oven and glanced up in surprise as the intercom at the front gates began to buzz insistently on the kitchen wall. Wiping his hands on a dish towel, he pressed the button. "Yes?"

"I'm Liam Davis," the voice replied. "I'm here to see Miss Gilbert."

"Mr Davis" Jack said darkly, "it is seven-thirty in the morning! Miss Gilbert needs to rest. Go away and come back at a civilized hour, say eleven," he added, then he gaped at the intercom speaker because he thought Liam actually chuckled at his reprimand.

"Uncivilized or not, I have to insist on seeing Ele—Miss Gilbert."

"And if I refuse to open the gates?" Jack persisted stubbornly.

"In that case," he said drolly, "I'm afraid you may have to answer to Mr John Gilbert directly."

"Alright," Jack said, irritably pressing the switch to open them. "Mr Gilbert should know better. Miss Gilbert needs to rest."

Cutting off any possible reply, Jack released the intercom button and walked quickly down the hall to the living room where he found Elena huddled in a chair watching the morning news.

"Good morning, Miss Gilbert," Jack said cheerfully, "I'm sorry to let you know that we have an uninvited guest, who will probably be joining you for breakfast. Such rudeness as his does not warrant you combing your hair or changing into street clothes," he said when Elena looked askance at her long white bathrobe.

"Who is it?"

"Liam Davis."

Elena groaned. Why couldn't she be left alone? "What does he want?" she murmured as the doorbell began to peal. "I will answer that," she said, tightening the belt on her robe. "You carry on with your breakfast. I'm starving."

Unceremoniously, Elena yanked open the front door, then stepped back in shock as Liam Davis held his arms up and pleaded in a comic voice, "Don't shoot. Please."

"What a delightful idea," Elena replied, but she was biting back a smile at his humour. "Nobody like being disturbed so early."

He grinned, his gaze roving over the shining dark brown hair tumbling over her shoulders, then shifting to her bright eyes and soft smile. "A night's peace and quiet seems to have done you a world of good," he remarked.

"You aren't looking too bad yourself," she said cheerfully.

Liam Davis was tall. Not just tall, but also bronzed, and gorgeous. She was looking now, all right. His big blue eyes reminded her a little of Damon and she found that more endearing than annoying.

"I'm glad you like it."

"Have you come to ask me to sign the documents?" she asked as she turned and walked with him down the hall.

"Do we always have to talk about business?" he countered as they entered the kitchen.

"Are you planning to stay for breakfast?"

Liam looked from Jack who was breaking eggs into a bowl to Elena who was picking up a cup from the cupboard. Elena was devoid of makeup, clad in robes and pyjamas, with her hair still rumpled from sleep. She looked lovely, innocent, and utterly charming. "Am I invited?" he asked Elena, grinning.

She looked up at him, her dark blue eyes searching his face as if she were trying to see beyond his skin and into his soul, and he suddenly wished there was more kindness and goodness there for her to see. "Do you want to be invited?"

"Yes."

She smiled then, the first genuine, unstrained smile she had given him, and it had a radiance that made his heart quicken. "In that case," she said, "sit down at the table while Jack fixes you one of his special omelettes. I'm actually looking forward to eating them."

Jack smiled at her. "You will like them, Miss Gilbert. I'm sure of it."

Elena smiled back. "I'm sure of it, too."

Liam pulled off his jacket and tie, loosened the top button of his shirt collar and settled down at the table while Elena brought him a cup of coffee and then sat across him. Jack arranged the omelettes on two heated plates and carried the food to the table.

She gazed at it longingly. "It is beautiful, Jack. Absolutely beautiful."

Jack grinned. "Thanks."

"Mr Davis?" Elena said quietly as she took a bite of the omelette.

"Call me Liam," he said.

"Liam," she corrected.

He definitely liked the sound of his name on her lips. "Yes?"

"Why are you staring at me?"

Liam lurched guiltily and said the first thing that came to mind. "I was wondering what time you would like to visit Gilbert & Company."

She paused with a bite of omelette poised in mid-air. "I guess I can't avoid it, can I?"

"No."

Elena savoured another bite of omelette while she thought about that. "I'm in charge now, aren't I?"

"Yes."

"Okay, but let me finish breakfast. Jack's omelette is absolutely delicious."

Breakfast was a thoroughly delightful experience, Liam thought contentedly as he got up and filled his coffee cup while Elena helped Jack to load dishes into the dishwasher. An extraordinarily pleasant time—and he knew exactly why that was so. As he had just discovered to his complete enchantment, when Elena Gilbert finally decided she liked someone, she liked them wholeheartedly and without reservation. This woman was extra-ordinary, he thought.

He was thinking about all that when he realized she was asking his advice, which he also found profoundly gratifying: "Last night," she explained, "I talked to Isobel about the press. Isobel thinks the only way to stop them from doing that and to get rid of them completely is to call them all together and give them a detailed formal statement about what happened and then answer any other questions they have. What do you think?"

"I think she is absolutely right. In fact, that was one of the things I intended to suggest to you when I came over here this morning."

Elena frowned. "I can't tell you how much I resent the idea that a world full of strangers thinks they are entitled to an explanation of something that has nothing whatsoever to do with them."

"I can understand that, but you only have two choices: deal with the press now, on your own terms, or let them keep printing damaging conjecture and chasing you everywhere you go."

Elena hesitated and then sighed. "Alright, I will do it."

"Would you like for me to be there to back you up?"

"Would you really do that for me?"

Would he really do that for her, Liam thought wryly. For her, he would not only do that, but he would probably slay a dragon…beard a lion…move a mountain. "I'm employed by Gilbert & Company. This is my job."

"Thank you," she said simply, trying not to notice how much more he reminded her of Damon when he was being charming.

"How about thanking me by having dinner with me tonight?"

She went blank. "Dinner?"

"In a restaurant. You know, where you order the food off a menu and people serve it to you?"

"Oh, dinner." _He was asking you out for a dinner. A date._

"Yes, dinner. Fun. Relax."

"That sounds nice."

"It is a deal. When do you get out of here?" he asked as he glanced at his watch. "Isobel is expecting you this morning."

"Alright."

He grinned at her pained expression. "Don't worry. Gilbert & Company is not that scary."

"I certainly hope not."

x x x

Elena was awed.

She had never been here in her father's company. The power belonged to him. And now it belonged to her. She looked around the huge office and felt like an imposter. The room had been magnificently decorated by Ernst Hohl. At one end stood a Roentgen cabinet with a Millet landscape over it. There was a fireplace, and in front of it a chamois leather couch, a large coffee table and four easy chairs. Around the walls were Renoirs, Chagalls, Klees and two early Courbets. The desk was a solid block of black mahogany. Hanging behind the desk was a portrait of Grayson Gilbert.

A private door led to a large dressing room, with cedar closets and lined drawers. Someone had removed Grayson's clothing, and Elena was grateful. She walked through a tiled bathroom that included a marble bathtub and a stall shower. There were fresh Turkish towels hanging on warming racks. The medicine chest was empty. All the daily paraphernalia of her father's life had been taken away. Isobel, probably. Elena idly suspected Isobel had been in love with her father.

The executive suite included a large sauna, a fully equipped gymnasium, a barbershop, and a dining room that could seat a hundred people. When foreign guests were being entertained, a little flag representing their country was placed in the floral centrepiece on the table.

In addition, there was Grayson's private dining room, tastefully decorated, with muraled walls.

Isobel had explained to Elena, "There are two chefs on duty during the day, and one at night. If you are having more than twelve guests for luncheon or dinner, they need two hours' notice."

Now Elena sat at the desk, piled high with papers, memoranda, and statistics and reports, and she did not know where to begin. She thought of her father sitting here, in this chair, behind this desk, and she was suddenly filled with a sense of unbearable loss. Grayson must have been so able, so brilliant. How she needed him now! How could she manage to deal with the company without him? She did not belong here. She felt so inadequate.

Isobel was seated across from her, watching her. Elena knew exactly what she must be thinking, what they all were thinking. That she had no business being there.

"That was quite a bomb you dropped yesterday," Isobel said.

"I'm sorry if I upset John."

She grinned. "Upset is hardly the word. You put him in a state of shock. He thought he could get all the shares from you easily." She studied Elena a moment. "What made you decide not to sign, Elena?"

How could she explain that Damon's words had made her believed that something was wrong? Isobel wouldn't believe her.

As though reading her thoughts, Isobel said, "Your father set this up and he had worked really hard to achieve what he had. We are running one of the biggest drugstores in the world. Whoever sits in your father's chair has to make all the final decisions. It is one hell of a responsibility."

She looked at Isobel and wondered whether this was Isobel's way of telling her to get out. "Do you think I should sell all my shares to John?"

"Do you want to?"

Elena shook her head.

Isobel smiled at her. "Grayson had told me that you are special. And I agree with him. You are like your father. Strong, tough and will not give up easily."

"Will you help me?"

"You know I will."

Elena felt a rush of relief and she realized how much she had been counting on Isobel. "Thank you."

"The first thing we'd better do," Isobel said, "is take you on a tour of the plant here. Do you know about the physical structure of this company?"

"Not much."

"We manufacture much more than drugs, Elena. We make chemicals and perfumes and vitamins and hair sprays and pesticides. We produce cosmetics and bio-electronic instruments. We have a food division, and a division of animal nitrates." Elena was aware of all that, but she let Isobel go on. "We publish magazines for distribution to doctors. We make adhesives, and building protection agents and plastic explosives."

Elena could sense that Isobel was becoming caught up by what she was saying, she could hear the undertone of pride in Isobel's voice, and she was oddly reminded of her father.

Isobel took Elena on a tour of the company's factory. They visited the manufacturing plants, the research departments, the toxicology laboratories, the storage plants. Isobel brought Elena to a sound stage, where they made motion pictures for research and for their worldwide advertising and products divisions. "We use more film here," Isobel told Elena, "than the major Hollywood studios."

Elena laughed at the comment.

They went through the molecular biology department, and the liquid centre, where fifty giant stainless steel, glass lined tanks hung suspended from the ceiling, filled with liquids ready to be bottled. They saw the tablet-compression rooms, where powders were formed into tablets, sized, stamped with GILBERT & COMPANY, packaged and labelled, without anyone ever touching them. Some of the drugs were ethical products, available only on prescription; others were proprietary items, sold over the counter.

Set apart from the other buildings were several small buildings. These were for the scientists: the analytical chemists, biochemists, organic chemists, parasitologists, pathologists.

"More than three hundred scientists work here," Isobel to her. "Most of them are Ph.D.'s. Would you like to see our hundred-million-dollar room?"

Elena nodded, intrigued.

It was in an isolated brick building, guarded by a uniformed policeman with a gun. Isobel showed her security pass, and she and Elena were permitted to enter a long corridor with a steel door at the end of it. The guard used two keys to open the door, and Elena and Isobel entered. The room contained no windows. It was lined from floor to ceiling with shelves filled with every variety of bottles, jars and tubes.

"Why do they call this the hundred-million-dollar room?" Elena asked.

"Because that is what it cost to furnish it. See all those compounds on the shelves? None of them have names, only numbers. They are the ones that didn't make it. They are the failures."

"But a hundred million…"

"For every new drug that works, there are about a thousand that end up in this room. Some drugs are worked on for as long as ten years, and then abandoned. A single drug can cost five or ten million dollars in research before we find out that it is no good, or that someone else has beaten us to it. We don't throw any of these things away because now and then one of our bright young men will back into a discovery that can make something in this room valuable."

The amounts of money involved were awesome.

"Come on," Isobel said, "I will show you the Loss Room."

It was in another building, this one unguarded, containing, like the other rooms, only shelves filled with bottles and jars.

"We lose a fortune here too," Isobel said. "But we plan it that way."

Elena looked confuse. "I don't understand."

Isobel walked over to a shelf and picked up a bottle. It was labelled 'Botulism'. "Do you know how many cases of botulism there were in the United States last year? I'm sure you know the answer. Not a lot. But it costs us millions of dollars to keep this drug in stock." He picked up another bottle at random. "This is an antidote for rabies. This room is full of drugs that are cures for rare diseases - snakebites, poisonous plants. We furnish them free to the armed forces and to hospitals, as a public service."

"I like that," Elena said.

It took almost four hours to tour the key buildings, and when Elena had finished, she was exhausted, her head spinning with the vastness of it.

"Are you okay?" Isobel asked her as they returned to Grayson's office.

She took a deep breath. "I'm fine. I'm just…overwhelmed."

"Are you hungry?"

Someone knocked on the door before Elena could answer.

"Come in," Elena said.

Liam walked into the office with a pile of take-out boxes in his hands. "Focaccia sandwiches."

"Great." Isobel took a take-out box from him. "I will get us some coffee."

He smiled at Elena, put down a box and raised the lid. "Chilled buckwheat noodles with sea vegetables, wasabi, and dipping sauce."

"This is fantastic." Elena gave him a smile as he placed two packets of chopsticks and some napkins on the desk. "I'm starving."

He handed her a set of chopsticks. "My job is to feed you."

"We have been touring the key buildings." Elena sat down and dug in with the chopsticks. "I didn't realise. The company is massive."

He pulled up a chair and picked up his own chopsticks. 'Sounds like you have a busy morning."

"Yes," she said around a mouthful of noodles dipped in sauce and hot green wasabi paste. "Isobel said I have got a meeting this afternoon."

"All the more reason to take the evening off and relax."

"I think you are right."

"I will pick you up at seven," he added with a lazy grin. "That will give you enough time to get ready."

Elena looked at him. He looked good, she thought. He also happened to be tall, dark, handsome, and extremely sexy. Maybe this was what she needed to put Damon completely out of her mind.

"Fine," she said. "I will be ready."

* * *

 **What do you guys/gals think? I know a lot of you won't be happy that Elena is going out with Liam. Frankly speaking, I don't like Liam too. But to make the story interesting, I know I have to annoy my readers a little bit, LOl:) Trust me, there will be Delena soon:)  
**

 **Enjoy reading:)**


	18. Chapter 18

The following two weeks were busy as Elena was swamped with work, meetings and press conference. Fortunately, the FBI surveillance had turned out to be less intrusive than she had feared. They had met her again to ask more questions. No one had mentioned about Damon. But she had managed to find out that he was alive but still in critical care unit.

She knew Damon would make it because of his strong will. There were days when she actually went for four or five hours without thinking of him, nights when she didn't lie awake staring at the ceiling, remembering things like their breakfast at the cabin and the dinner at the mansion.

Liam had asked her out for another dinner and she had said yes. Then they had gone to a movie on the weekend, and she had invited him to her house for coffee. Elena liked him. They laughed and talked with joy. The entire Gilbert & Company gossiped that he had fallen in love with her. Even Isobel had asked her about it over lunch one day.

"I saw him brought you coffee this morning," Isobel said. "In case you haven't noticed, he is crazy about you, Elena. That is obvious to anyone who looks closely."

"We are friends."

"You are not interested in him?"

"We are friends, Isobel."

"Very well then," Isobel said. "Frankly speaking, he doesn't seem to be your type."

Elena laughed aloud. "I'm not dating him. He is a friend."

"Don't get me wrong. He is one very special man but he doesn't seem to be your Mr Right."

That give her pause. "You really think I have a type?"

Isobel nodded. "Yeah. Just not Liam Davis."

She was intrigued. "So, what is my type?"

Isobel thought about it. "Passionate, adventurous, sexy…and a little dangerous."

She thought about Damon immediately.

Christ, no!

How could Damon be her Mr Right?

She must be crazy to have that thought.

"My focus at the moment is Gilbert & Company," she said firmly. "Nothing else."

Later that afternoon, Elena just sat down at her desk and was taking a sip of her coffee, when Isobel raced into her office. "The FBI is here!" she burst out. "They want to talk to you alone."

Alarm traced a finger up Elena's spine. "Why? What is wrong?"

Even Isobel looked tense. "I'm not sure. Shall I call Liam?"

"No. I will talk to them and find out what is going on."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yeah. Where are they?"

"They are in the conference room."

At the entrance to the meeting room, she paused to take a deep breath and braced herself. She could do this.

She turned the knob and opened the door. "Sorry. Got held up."

Three men were seated at the conference table. They glanced up, saw her, and instantly arose.

"I bet you must be busy."

At the sound of a familiar voice in the room, she swung towards the far end of the room. There stood Damon Salvatore.

"Oh, my God!" Elena stepped backward.

Alaric was standing beside her. "He is one of the DEA. Special Agent Damon Salvatore."

Damon's focus remained on Elena's wide, incredulous gaze. "You should see your face. I guess we pulled it off."

He watched Elena's lips part in disbelief. Or disillusionment, maybe. In a barely audible voice, she said, "You are a DEA agent?"

"Guilty."

"They really pulled it off," Tanner grumbled. "I almost shot him when he turned up in the FBI office the other day."

"Damon work out of the San Francisco office but he has been working undercover for the past few years," Enzo explained. "He has been working on Wes Maxfield's investigation for the past six months."

Alaric beside Elena had righted a chair and took her elbow in an attempt to guide her into it. Elena shook him off and remained standing. Damon had only ever seen her in the jeans and top she had worn into the bar. Today she was dressed for business in a navy pants suit with a pink scooped-neck top underneath the jacket.

But he was less interested in her wardrobe than in her facial expressions, which had evolved from dismay upon seeing him, to absolute fury upon learning how he had misled her, big-time.

He didn't blame her, either.

Damon expelled a long breath. "Look. Elena. I know I put you through a meat grinder. But I was—"

"'Son of a bitch' doesn't come close to characterizing you." She practically spat the words at him, and then turned her head aside as if the very sight of him sickened her.

"Damon is trying to do his job," Enzo said finally, breaking the fraught silence. "For years, Wes Maxfield has run the largest crime syndicate in Richmond—his organization was responsible for nearly one-third of all drug trafficking in the city, and his people extorted, bribed, threatened, and killed anyone who stood in their way. The DEA had sent in our own undercover agent to make contact with Maxfield two years ago but we lost our agent in the end."

"Therefore I have decided to hook up with Trevor Bolden." Unfazed by Elena's resentful glower, Damon continued, "I had waited months for a call from Trevor Bolden and finally he called. Rumours had that Grayson Gilbert had walked out on Maxfield. I figured he was the target we had been asked to hit. Then I got here. Shocker. Grayson was dead. His daughter was the target. Killing a woman? Jesus." He shook his head. "I know something isn't right."

Elena narrowed her eyes. "You still think my father had something to do with the Jewels."

Damon looked serious. "I know he was. Elena, believe me. I won't be doing this if he wasn't involved."

"Go to hell."

He ignored the putdown. "I had to appear indifferent to Trevor so I could stay cheek by jowl with the asshole and learn what I could. Trevor seemed to know a lot about you," he continued. "We followed you to the bar that night, and that was when he laid out the plan."

"Plan A?" Elena said with insincere sweetness.

Damon looked at her, but didn't respond.

Enzo said, "Plan A was to hit her early the next morning at her condo. Make it look like a burglary turned deadly."

"Dumbest idea I had ever heard," Damon scowled. "But then there was a change in the plan. I told Trevor it was crazy to kill you outside the bar but he said that was the plan. End of discussion. That's when I realized that I would be left dead, too. He had brought me in specifically to take the fall. The clock was ticking. I had to stop it."

She said nothing for a moment, then a terse "Thank you for saving my life."

"You are welcome."

But he was far from forgiven. Still seething, she grated out, "Why did you do the rest of it?"

Without excuse or qualification or missing a beat, he answered. "Because I want Wes Maxfield. I have to find out who is the partner he is dealing with."

When he had appeared in the room, Elena had barely contained a cry of joy. Now she wanted nothing more than to scratch out his damn lying eyes.

"I have nothing to do with Wes Maxfield," she said. "Since you have the skinny on me, you should know that. Once Trevor was out of commission, why didn't you tell me you were DEA? Or just leave me there and drive away?"

"Your father was already dead, Elena. You are the one and only link to Maxfield and whoever Maxfield is dealing with is at the end of that chain."

"In other words, you decided to use me as bait."

"Okay. If you like that word better."

"You bastard."

He didn't blink. "It has been said."

She barged towards him, her eyes shooting sparks at Damon. "You terrorized me."

"I guess. To some extent."

"There is no extent to terrorism."

"You are right," he said, raising his voice to match hers. "But I have to make sure you know nothing about your father's involvement with Maxfield."

"I told you I know nothing about my father's business," she snapped.

"Damon has to make sure you are not lying," Enzo began, but Elena's furious voice interrupted him.

"He thinks I'm a liar!" Her eyes were alive with fury as she said to Damon. "You have subjected me to everything from terrorism to humiliation. You used me as a bait to trap Wes Maxfield."

"You are his daughter. I have to make sure you are not covering up for your father," Damon retorted.

"You bastard!"

Damon looked at the other men in the room. "Leave the two of us alone now."

Elena, however, was past the point of caring who heard anything anymore. "Sit down!" she warned the other men. Nothing mattered. She was being used as bait. How could she have let herself cared for him? "You are full of clever tricks, aren't you? Damn you! Now who is the big liar here? It's you!"

She reached her hand up and slapped him hard across the face.

"Stop it!" he ordered, grabbing her upper arms, but his gaze was on Enzo, who was heading forward, reaching for him.

"Bastard!" she snarled, glaring at Damon. "You bastard! You lied to me!"

Damon yanked her against his chest, shrugging Enzo off. "Listen to me!" he said tautly, turning Elena aside. "I hate lying to you! I have no choice. Do you understand me?"

Everyone was standing; everyone froze, even Elena stopped struggling, but her whole body was trembling and she covered her face with her hands. Glancing at their spectators, Damon ordered sharply, "Get the hell out of here."

"Damon?" Enzo said uncertainly. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Don't worry," Damon told Enzo with a grin effort at humour. "She won't throw another punch at me."

Long silence stretched between them after the three men left the room. After taking a deep breath, Elena turned to face Damon. "The only thing you care about is the investigation. You lie about everything."

"I do, yeah. Most times. Not always."

She glared at him. "You make me look like a fool."

"It is my job."

"I wish you had bled to death."

She put her hands on Damon's chest and shoved. Take that.

He didn't budge.

Instead, his hand clamped down on her wrist and he pulled her closer. "No, you don't," he growled. "You don't want me dead."

His mouth came down on hers and he kissed her. His hand swept to the back of her head as he claimed her lips, rough and possessive. Elena was pissed off and fired up, and she grabbed his jacket to push him away, but…

God, yes.

Instead of pushing, she clutched his jacket and pulled him close. He kissed her until she was breathless, then pulled back and peered down at her with blazing blue eyes.

"There. See you don't want me dead," he rasped, his tone both angry and satisfied.

Elena lurched back, staring at him. Her cheeks flushed hot, flamed by fury. "Damn you!"

"Where is she?" Liam called heatedly outside the conference room. "The FBI has no right to question her like this. She is not a suspect."

"Elena, we need to talk," Damon took a step forward.

"That is just too bad." She shrugged away from him and yanked open the door. "I'm not talking to you without my lawyer."

Liam moved into the room. "Are you okay, Elena?"

She nodded. "I want this all legal and formal. I'm not going anywhere with them without my attorney," she said ferociously, and Damon bit back a smile of pride. She was splendid—already recovering her composure, her chin up, her shoulders square.

"Miss Gilbert," Alaric said. "This is not an interrogation…"

"I don't trust the FBI." She glared at Damon. "And I definitely don't trust the DEA."

"My client has the right to request a lawyer to be present," Liam added.

Damon shook his head. "No. He can't be here."

"Why not?" she fired back. "Because you said so?"

"Because I don't trust him!"

"I don't trust you guys as well," she said wrathfully.

"Now, let's get this over with," Liam intervened. "What exactly do you want from my client?"

"Fine," Damon said, his face tightened. Sitting down on the edge of the conference table, he crossed his arms over his chest. "This case is far from over."

Elena looked at him with a start. "What?"

"Mclean has made a deal with the FBI," Alaric explained. "We are charging thirty-four members of Maxfield's organization, including Wes Maxfield, with over a hundred counts of federal and state law violations. It included everything from racketeering, drug, and firearm charges, to aggravated assault, attempted murder, and murder."

"This is good news, isn't it?" Liam asked.

"We still have no idea who is Maxfield's partner," Damon pointed out bluntly. "I think whoever is behind this will not let it go easily."

"Why do you think that?"

Damon said, "Because Elena owns the controlling interest in Gilbert & Company."

Elena frowned. "You still think Gilbert & Company is connected to The Jewels."

"What is The Jewels?" Liam asked.

Damon ignored him. "Hell, yes. The DEA has been investigating on The Jewels for the past two years. Ivan Stone got killed because of this investigation. We believe that someone in the employ of Gilbert & Company is manufacturing the drug."

"What evidence do you have?" Liam demanded. "The company's reputation is at stake here."

"Mclean gave us enough information about Maxfield's connection to the drug cartels in San Francisco," Enzo explained. "We suspect that someone is operating an underground lab to provide the drug to Maxfield."

"Someone from Gilbert & Company," Elena said.

"We don't have enough evidence yet to make an arrest," Enzo said.

"Because we don't know who is the son of bitch behind this," Damon said.

"Then I suggest you guys go and find the evidence," Liam said, addressing Damon. "It is your job."

Alaric said, "That is why she remains in custody. We can't take the chance."

"My client understands that," Liam said. "That's it then. Is my client free to leave?"

"No," Damon said brusquely.

Elena stared at him coldly. "And why is that?"

"Everything we are about to tell you is extremely confidential, Miss Gilbert," Enzo began. "You can tell no one about the purpose of this meeting." He turned his attention to Liam. "You are the same, too."

"Wait, hold on a minute," Liam said. "What is this about?"

"We have to find out the identity of Maxfield's partner in order to ensure your safety," Enzo said. "I say we take the offensive."

"We?" she echoed, frowning.

"That's right, we," Enzo said. "We let it leak that you are no longer in custody. And whoever is behind this will take action."

It took her a moment. "Maxfield's partner will try to get rid of me if I'm not longer in custody," she finished slowly. "Then we might find out who is behind this."

"No!"

The explosive protest jerked their heads around.

"Forget it," Liam said, flatly. "There's no way you guys are setting my client as a target."

"She is the best lead we have got," Enzo said. "The FBI will be assisting us to ensure her safety."

"We will be watching her very closely but there is some risk of danger," Alaric added.

"We think we can minimise the risk by having someone sticking close to her to protect her," Damon said.

Liam lifted a brow. "Who will that be?"

Damon folded his arms on the table. "Me."

Elena's eyes widened. "What?"

"Try not to look so surprise," Damon said dryly.

"Hell, no!" Liam snapped. "You can't do that!"

"Actually, Damon is the best candidate for this assignment," Enzo interjected. "He has undertaken a lot of undercover work for us."

Everyone looked at Enzo. Elena said, "Tell me how he fits into this."

Damon took the lead. "I will be your fiancé."

"God, I cannot believe this!" she cried, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "Is this a joke?"

Damon fought back a smile. "Do I look like I'm joking here?"

"Has it occurred to you that my family and friends know that I don't have a fiancé?"

"Don't tell me you have never kept any secret from them," he teased.

Elena stared him in the eyes for another moment, and then turned to Enzo. "Doesn't the FBI or DEA have a lot of agents?"

"We would very much appreciate your cooperation," Enzo said softly.

Damon flashed his sweet smile. "Sorry, I'm afraid you are stuck with me."

Lovely.

Seconds stretched out into a full minute of silence.

Elena sighed, sat back and held up her hand, palm out. "How long do I have to make my decision?"

"I think we all know you have already made your decision, Elena," Damon said.

How Elena wished she could tell him that he didn't know her half as well as he seemed to think he did. But unfortunately, in this case, he was right. She wanted to find out the identity of Maxfield's partner. She couldn't let him control Gilbert & Company. He could be the one who had killed her father as well.

"No one can know about this until it is over," Damon emphasized. "To maintain the cover, everyone has to think I'm actually your fiancé." He chuckled. "Not that I'm suggesting we need to—ahem—get romantic or anything."

"Elena, don't do this!" Liam warned.

Damon hadn't taken his eyes off her. "So we have a deal?"

"Trust me, I'm not exactly thrilled about it," Elena said to Liam. "This has to end. We need to find out the identity of Maxfield's partner. We need to find him before he gets to me."

"We will do our best to ensure your safety," Enzo reassured her.

Elena nodded. "We have a deal."

* * *

 **What do you guys/gals think? As promised, there is Delena in this chapter;) Sorry to annoy a lot of you in the last chapter but I thought somehow I have to make this story fun and exciting, LOL!**

 **Enjoy! And thank you for the support so far and the wonderful comments. I really appreciate it. I promise I will continue to improve my writing and bring you all great Delena stories.**


	19. Chapter 19

"Why do you do that?" Liam asked the minute they returned to Elena's office. "How could you help the DEA with something like that? Are you insane?"

"I know how angry you are…"

"No, you don't!" Liam snapped furiously. "You think you know, but you can't even begin to imagine! You let them used you as a bait. They are putting you in the line of fire."

Elena thought about how best to explain. "This is probably the most effective way of finding out the identity of Maxfield's partner."

"Let's cut the bullshit," Liam said harshly. "What happened between you and Salvatore while you were in Atlanta?"

"You know what happened."

"Don't lie to me, Elena. You went to bed with him," he bit out. "You slept with him, didn't you?"

"No!" Elena cried.

Swearing under his breath, he caught her shoulders. "Tell me you don't feel something for him," he demanded, making a visible effort not to shake her. "Tell me."

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Damon said.

The deadly voice was like a cannon shot in the room. Elena looked over and was surprised to see Damon standing in the doorway.

"She is technically my fiancée." He fixed a cold, blue stare on Liam. "There is nothing wrong for her to feel something for me."

Elena looked at him. "What are you doing here?"

"We are going to talk, Elena," he said in the cool, authoritative tone she particularly hated. Then he turned to Liam. "You can go now."

Liam blustered. "I'm not leaving her alone with you."

"This is not your show. It is a case of the DEA and the FBI. You have no right to interfere." Damon motioned him towards the door. "And here is your chance to step out of it."

"Fine," Liam scowled. "Call me if you need anything, Elena."

He left then, closing the door behind him, leaving Elena and Damon staring at each other. She was furious with Damon. His attitude was inexcusable.

Her eyes were flashing fire when she flared, "I cannot believe you just did that."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I interrupt something between you and your Mr Attorney?"

"Yes, you did interrupt something. It is called a conversation. Liam works for our company."

"I didn't realize he was so important to you," Damon said sarcastically.

She glared at him. "What has gotten into you?"

Damon closed in on her. "I will tell you what has gotten into me. How do you think it would look if anyone was watching you tonight? They would see my supposed fiancé looking cosy with another guy."

Of course, Elena thought. The investigation. The only thing he cared about.

"What does he want?" Damon asked. "Are you…interested in this guy?"

She stalked away from him. "I don't have to answer that."

He followed her. "Yes, you do. It could be relevant to the undercover op."

She whirled around. "Oh, I'm sorry – this is my first undercover operation," she said sarcastically. "I'm a little unclear about the rules. I'm not like you who are so used to lying and deceiving."

Damon's eyes flickered over her with amusement. "You are still mad at me."

Elena managed a look of angry scorn. "I have enough of your games. Now, what did you want to talk about?"

"For one thing, we need to make sure we are clear on something. You are being watched by whoever is behind this. We can't give him a reason to suspect that anything is off. Which means that until we find out the identity of Maxfield's partner, I have to remain your fiancé."

"Right."

"So I will be Damon Stanhope, a lecturer in pharmacy who works for the university."

"Damon Stanhope? Lecturer in pharmacy?"

"Stanhope is my mother's maiden name. And for your information, I do have a degree in pharmacy."

"Seriously, who are you?" she asked.

He smiled. "Good question. It changes every six to nine months."

It took a moment for this to sink in.

"Okay." Feeling thirsty, she got up and walked over to one of the cabinets. She pulled out a water bottle from the refrigerator. "So walk me through this. What would I have to do as the supposed fiancée of a lecture in pharmacy?" She took a sip of her water.

"You would need to have lots and lots of sex with me."

Elena choked on the water and began coughing.

Damon blinked innocently. "No good?"

Her watering eyes undoubtedly lessened the effect of her glare.

Damon smiled. "The answer is that we need to act, from all outward appearances, as if we are a real couple. To ensure your safety, I need to stick close to you."

She raised an eye brow. "Meaning?"

"I will move in with you." He grinned. "Since we are ready for that step."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"You are my fiancé. Because I'm so in love with you, I have quit my job and come all the way to join you here in San Francisco. I have a degree in pharmacy and you talk me into working for Gilbert & Company."

She was aghast. "You are going to work for Gilbert & Company?"

"Unless you can think of a better way to learn the identity of Maxfield's partner."

Elena looked thoughtful now. "You are certain Maxfield's partner works for Gilbert & Company?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he killed my father?"

He looked at her for a long time, not speaking. She knew he was once again deliberating how much to tell her. The habit was becoming annoying.

"Have you had enough for the day?" He checked his watch. "It is almost five-thirty."

"Don't brush me off like that," she said grimly.

"Oh, man," he said again, almost under his breath. "You are still mouthy. This is going to be fun."

"I fail to see anything that is the least bit amusing about this," she snapped. "We are talking about my father. I have the right to know."

"Understood."

She folded her arms across her chest. "You aren't taking me seriously, aren't you?"

Well, hell. Definitely time to change the subject.

"No." His mouth jerked upward at the corner. "I can see that you are damn serious. But right now, I only care about one thing."

"What?"

"You got anything to eat back in your house?" he asked.

She blinked and refocused. "You are hungry?"

"Starving. Took an early flight from Richmond to San Francisco this morning. Had nothing to eat."

"You expect me to feed you?"

"Why not? I'm technically your fiancé."

His pouty face took the fight right out of her. And knowing Damon, that had been his intent. She was angry and annoyed—with him. What kind of mess had she got herself into?

She ran her hand through her hair. "Fine. We will go back to my place for dinner."

x x x

Jack set two glasses of wine and a small dish containing an assortment of olives, tiny strips of carrots and crunchy pale jicama, together with some cheese and crackers onto the table in the solarium.

"I wasn't expecting Miss Gilbert bringing a friend for dinner." Jack nodded politely at Damon and then looked at Elena. "I have made a tomato-and-goat-cheese tart. I think a lovely spinach salad will go well with it. Oh, jeez, do you think it is enough?" He looked anxious. "I can make some pasta as well."

Damon smiled slowly. "Whatever you are cooking, Jack, they sound delicious. I'm easy like that."

Jack grinned at that. "Dinner will be ready shortly." He turned to look at Elena and his tone turned sly. "I have a feeling tonight is going to be a good one for you."

Right. Because she was having dinner with Damon. And of course any woman having dinner with someone who looked like Damon was guaranteed a night of endless great sex.

Hot, scruffy-jawed, throw-me-down-on-the-table, mind-blowing sex.

Probably with dirty words.

Perhaps not a horrible way to spend the night, she conceded. But it wasn't in the cards for her.

Nothing personal, she chanted silently. Nothing personal. Just dinner and she wanted to find out what was his plan.

Two hours later Elena walked back into the solarium with two glasses of wine. She lowered herself into the wicker lounger next to Damon and handed one of the glasses to him.

"Well?" she said. "You have been fed. Got any idea what you are going to do next?"

He stifled a groan. "You are so impatient."

"No more games, Damon," she warned him.

He took a sip of his wine. "First we need a list."

"A list of what, for heaven's sake?"

"Of all the people who would benefit the most if you aren't controlling the shares of Gilbert & Company."

Elena's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "That would probably be a long list." She gave the subject a few more seconds of reflection. "But John will be top on the list. He is so desperate for me to sell the shares to him."

"He is a suspect but I think there is more to that."

"What makes you say that?" she asked simply.

"Think about it," Damon said. "It is way too obvious that John will be the prime suspect if you are dead."

"Maybe he is too angry when he finds out my father had left everything to me."

Damon looked thoughtful. "There is no doubt he is furious when he realised your father had left everything to you."

"So, he is the one who is behind this."

He shook his head. "Killing you is beyond careless because everyone will be pointing their fingers at him. It is flat-out dumb. Unless…"

"Unless what?" Elena asked.

"Unless someone wanted to make it look like a setup that will ultimately point the finger at John Gilbert," Damon said.

Elena did not move for a few seconds. He could see her processing the information and wondered if she would dismiss the conclusion out of hand.

"This sounds complicated."

"Let's go back to the list," Damon said. "Besides John, who would benefit if you aren't controlling the shares?"

Elena thought about her meeting with the board of directors a few days ago. The meeting went on for almost two hours. She remembered clearly the tense, angry faces in the room. "I have decided not to sell." She had told them. John thought she was being arbitrary and stubborn. Richard Lockwood and Logan Fell had all tried to convince her that she wasn't experience enough to handle the business.

"One thing is certain," she said. "They all want me to get out."

"Some of them must be furious that the merger proposal has been withdrawn."

"Do you think the Mikaelson's family is behind this?"

He shook his head. "No. They want the merger because they want to use the company to control the drug industry. Killing you isn't going to allow them to go ahead with the merger."

"John is very against the merger," Elena added. "He won't allow the merger to happen if he has the controlling shares."

"Mikael Mikaelson sent the two men to look for you, not to kill you," he pointed out. "I think he wants you to be on his side. But someone wants you dead."

A chill zapped the length of Elena's spine. "Gives me the creep to think that someone is still watching me and wanting me dead."

"Yes." Damon finished his wine. "And when we catch the sonofabitch, I'm going to make certain that he pays for that."

The sudden shift to the dangerously neutral tone in Damon's voice sent an entirely different kind of frisson across Elena's nerve endings.

She watched with fascination as he rolled his empty glass between his hands.

He raised his brows as he saw Elena watching him. "What is it?"

She was caught off guard. What was she doing? How could she think he was fascinating? She suddenly felt much too warm. She knew she was blushing, and the fact infuriated her. She rushed to get the subject back on track.

"Who is next on your list?" she asked.

"Richard Lockwood. He was your father's classmate in university. He joined Gilbert & Company after a year the company was established."

"I have heard from Isobel that both Richard Lockwood and Logan Fell are very keen to go ahead with the merger proposal."

"The FBI has run some check on them. Nothing come up, unfortunately."

Silence fell between them.

Damon glanced at her. "What about Isobel Fleming?"

"She was my father's personal assistant/secretary. I inherited her."

"How do you describe her relationship with your father?"

At first Elena seemed bemused by the question, as though she did not understand it. Then he saw understanding dawn.

"You think Isobel might be the one who is behind this?" Elena asked in a tone that suggested she wanted to be absolutely sure she had got it right.

"Just a thought."

She waited.

"You know, this is going to seem a little far out. Your father had affairs with different women all these years. Isobel could be one of them."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. Assuming my father had an affair with Isobel. What has Isobel got to do with this?"

"Would she be mad enough to want to try to exact some revenge?" he asked.

Elena turned that over silently for a respectable period of time and then shook his head. "No. It doesn't make sense. Why does she want to kill me if she is mad at my father? Why involves Wes Maxfield? Leaving aside her per personal relationship with my father, Isobel is a loyal employee. It has been like that for many years."

He sat forward, fingers linked between his legs. "It is an interesting scenario, though."

She smiled briefly. "Isobel won't kill my father."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because she is still in love with my father."

"That's the reason?"

"I could see it every time she mentions about my father."

Damon looked thoughtful. "Huh."

"She was devastated when she found out my father was dead."

"Your father was found dead in his office."

"His driver found him dead. He was frantic, dialling the emergency numbers and trying to give CPR."

They sat in silence for a while.

"He was murdered, wasn't he?" she asked finally.

"According to his driver, your father had called him to pick him up at seven as he had to attend a dinner at the golf club. His driver waited until almost seven-thirty but he still couldn't see your father."

"He didn't see anyone in the office?"

"It was late. Everyone had left the office by that time," Damon said. "It was believed that your father collapsed from a heart attack before he could get help."

Elena shook her head. "My father was healthy. He didn't smoke and he exercised regularly. According to Isobel, he went for body check-up annually. There is no family history of heart disease. Unless…."

"Unless what?"

"Drugs."

"Drugs?"

"Yes." She shivered. "My father died of a heart attack. But there was no autopsy. What if someone used a drug to stop his heart? There are a number of medications that could stop his heart if the wrong dosage is given, although the average person probably wouldn't know how to use them to commit murder."

"We are not dealing with an average killer here." Damon's mouth crooked downward. "We are talking about someone who is expert in drugs. This person must be connected to The Jewels. I'm almost certain."

"Almost certain?"

"Because there are still a lot of unanswered questions."

"What happens next?"

"I'm going to pay a visit to your company tomorrow. Do a little looking around, ask some questions. And you are going to help me."

"How?"

"I will go in with everyone knowing I'm your fiancé and with my outstanding resume, I'm sure my fiancée will be gladly to get me a position in the research department."

She groaned. "I hate to lie to everyone like that. This secret agent stuff is not my thing."

* * *

 **Another Delena chapter for my wonderful readers. Hopefully you will enjoy this chapter:) I really appreciate the support and wonderful kind words from my readers. There are so many amazing writers in this Delena fanfiction** **-scarlett2112, Salvatoreboys4ever, delenadreams,** **TheLitte MissVixe, VitsAsh, Mariah April May etc. They work really hard to produce wonderful Delena stories. If you guys/gals have a chance, make sure you read their stories too.**

 **Once again, thank you for supporting my Delena stories:)**


	20. Chapter 20

Damon glanced around the lab as soon as he walked through the automatic doors with Elena. The Gilbert & Company Research and Development Laboratory, gleamed and sparkled with a lot of stainless steel and thick tinted glass. Instruments and high-tech equipment, including lasers that were clearly state–of–the-art and beyond, were arrayed on the workbenches. Computer screens glowed on every desk. Technicians in white coats hovered over chunks of test tubes.

One of the techs looked up when Elena escorted Damon into the windowless room. He yanked his safety goggles away from his eyes and got to his feet.

"Miss Gilbert," he said. "Sorry, madam, didn't see you come in. We didn't expect you to drop in."

Several other members of the staff noticed Elena and greeted her with a mixture of surprise and friendly respect. They looked at Damon with veiled speculation.

"I just stopped by to say hello," Elena said to the technician. "How's things going?"

"Humming along," the technician said. "Making a drug takes a lot of time."

"There are a lot of steps in making a drug," Damon said as he looked around. "It is not only time consuming but it takes a lot of effort to make sure it works and doesn't have important side effect."

The technician stared at him. "This is…"

Damon held out his hand in introduction. "Damon Stanhope. I used to be a pharmacist but I have been lecturing in the university for the past couple of years. I have definitely missed the time spending in the lab working on a drug."

The technician laughed. "That's what I like about working here. I get every toy I want."

Elena couldn't believe what she saw. This undercover agent next to her could definitely lie without blinking his eyes.

She cleared her throat. "We are on the way to the library. See you all later."

There were a few scattered snickers around the room.

Elena took Damon's arm. "Let's go."

Elena guided Damon back through the automatic steel doors and down a hall. "What do you think?" she asked quietly.

"I'm convinced now that this is the place they produce The Jewels."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She stopped in front of another set of steel doors and entered a code into the security system. The doors made almost no sound when they slid open, which, Damon decided, was why the two people at the far end of the room did not realize that they were no longer alone. The pair stood very close, their body language signalling an intimate relationship.

He coughed discreetly. "Sorry to interrupt."

The two people at the other end of the room jumped apart and turned quickly. The woman was clearly mortified. She appeared to be in her early thirties. Her long wavy dark brown, cool dark brown eyes and elegant legs made her a striking woman.

"Miss Gilbert," she said, flustered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realise you were here."

"It is okay, Dr Fell," Elena said, moving forward with Damon. "Just stopped in to check on a few things."

The man next to Dr Fell smiled briefly. "I didn't expect to see you here, Elena." He turned his attention to Damon. "I don't believe we have met."

"John, Dr Fell, this is Damon Stanhope," Elena murmured. "Damon, this is John, my uncle, and Dr Meredith Fell, the head of the R&D Lab."

Everyone shook hands and said the polite words.

"Are you a friend of Elena, Damon?" John asked.

His eyes tightened a bit at the corners as he studied Damon.

"Yes, we are close friends," Damon said. "Very close."

John raised his brows. "Close friends?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Damon saw Elena swallowed nervously. He knew this was the part she had dreaded, the part where she had to tell lies.

Perhaps he could help her out with that.

"Fiancé," Damon said. "I'm Elena's fiancé."

There was a moment of acute shock.

"You are Elena's fiancé?" John asked in disbelief.

"Elena and I met at a wine store in Richmond a few months ago. I distinctly recall her making a sarcastic comment about chardonnay. I can't tell you exactly what happened from there, but five days later I met her again at the supermarket and we had coffee together." Damon took her hand and linked his fingers through hers. "I think fate had a purpose for bringing us together again at the supermarket."

Meredith smiled. "That is sweet."

"You didn't tell us you have a fiancé," John said flatly. "I thought you are seeing Liam."

"Liam is just a friend," Elena said quickly. "Things…things have been crazy lately…"

"I was in Europe when Elena was kidnapped," Damon intervened. "I only came back a few days ago. Took a flight first thing I got back in the country and came all the way to San Francisco to see her."

"Are you a doctor as well?" Meredith asked.

"I have a degree in pharmacy," Damon said.

"Is that so?" Meredith smiled warmly. "Always a pleasure to meet a colleague. Do you work in one of the pharmaceutical companies in Richmond?"

 _Here it comes,_ Damon thought.

"No, I don't work in one of the other pharmaceutical companies," he said. He gave Meredith his brightest professional smile. "I was a lecturer in the university."

Meredith blinked. "Was?"

"From now, Damon will be working for us," Elena said.

There was another moment of acute shock.

John looked at Elena. "What do you mean he will be working for us?"

"I had worked in the lab after I graduated," Damon said. "I started working in the university after I got my Master degree a year ago." He turned his attention to Elena. "I know how much Elena matters to me after what had happened. I'm willing to move here to be with her if this is what she wants."

Elena's mouth went dry.

He tightened his grip on hers. "I will make sure nobody can hurt her."

"Yes, of course," Meredith said. "You are a lucky woman, Elena." She bobbed her head at Damon. "We are happy to have you here, Damon. I'm sure you can help us a lot with your research background."

Damon smiled at her. "I would love to get involved with your research, Dr Fell."

"Good." Meredith gave Damon a high-voltage smile. "Why don't I show you around?"

"Sounds like a good idea," Damon said.

"I have got an appointment with the sales rep." John put out his hand again. "See you around, Damon."

"Oh, yeah." Damon gripped his hand and shook briefly. "As long as Elena is here in Gilbert & Company, you will definitely be seeing me around."

John's jaw tightened in what might have been disapproval but he merely nodded once and turned to walk away.

"Shall we introduce you to our research team?" Meredith clasped Damon's elbow, flashing her one-hundred watts smile. "We have quite a lot of interesting research projects going on at the moment."

Elena was uncomfortably aware of what a striking pair the two made. She swallowed and faced the fact that she was experiencing a fierce shaft of what could only be called jealous possessiveness. What was wrong with her? How could she be jealous? This was crazy.

Elena cleared her throat. "In that case, I will leave you to it. I need to get back to the office."

"I will take good care of Damon," Meredith whispered in a throaty purr. Her smile turned saccharine sweet.

Meredith was flirting with Damon. For some unknown reasons, Elena found that she was bitter, bitter and angry enough that she responded without warmth, "I'm sure you will, Meredith. I need to get going. I'm busy."

With that, she turned on her heels and left the library.

x x x

Damon thought he had handled Meredith's pass rather well. Elena would have been proud of him. Maybe. Actually, it was a little tough to decide just how Elena would feel about the situation.

Of course, the process of dealing with Meredith's sensual invitation had been made easier by the fact that the woman hadn't exactly thrown herself at him. Nothing embarrassingly obvious or awkward from Meredith Fell. Nothing overly forthright and honest. There was no sign of genuine emotional need. That would have been far too unsophisticated.

In short, it was nothing like the kind of pass Elena might have delivered in similar circumstances, assuming Elena could have worked up the nerve for such a blatant sexual assault in the first place.

Damon smiled to himself at the thought of Elena trying to actively seduce a man. She would be very genuine and quite passionate about it, probably even reckless. The man in question would find himself in no doubt about the nature of the invitation.

He would also know that before Elena could bring herself to do such a thing she would have to be totally and irrevocably in love. That would make the business of accepting her invitation all the sweeter, Damon thought. Such a pass from Elena would probably be impossible to refuse. The lure of her complete surrender would be far too tempting.

But the kind of invitation Meredith had issued was another matter. Very polished, very sophisticated, very smooth. And very easy to ignore without embarrassing either party. On an intellectual level Damon had to admire it. She was one hell of a smart woman who knew a lot about drugs and it took considerable skill to explain everything about the complex research projects going on at Gilbert & Company and try to seduce a man at the same time. On an emotional level, he felt nothing. If it had been Elena next to him right now he would be rock hard already.

"Gilbert & Company has a lot of potential and we are always looking for new blood in the R&D Lab," she said. "I have always admired men who are motivated and keen to explore new things."

She was giving him one more chance, Damon decided, just in case the first pass had been too subtle. "I gather it must be a great opportunity to work with someone like Grayson Gilbert."

"Grayson was a very brilliant man. It was a shock to us that he died suddenly," she said, her voice smoothly masking her twinge of regret.

"I heard that John is a chemistry expert."

"Yes, he is," Meredith said smoothly. "I admire him tremendously. But I'm afraid his main interest is the company and the drugs."

"I think I get the picture," Damon said. "John is very focus on his work."

"Yes, he is."

"You have known him for a long time?"

"My brother Logan Fell is one of the board members. He has known the Gilbert brothers for as long as I can remember."

Damon looked around the laboratory with interest. The underground lab could be hiding somewhere here. "This place is absolutely amazing, isn't it?"

"Fantastic," Meredith murmured. "We are going to launch our latest drug used in breast cancer later this week and there will be a launch party here in the conference room. It would be good for you to join us there."

"Sure."

Meredith glanced at her watch. "I didn't realise it is almost eleven. I have some Blue Mountain coffee in my office." She glanced at him inquiringly, silently asking if he would like to go to her office.

"I think Elena would love to have some coffee," Damon said, as if he hadn't understood exactly what she was offering. "She likes Blue Mountain coffee."

"You really like her, don't you?"

"She is my fiancée."

"I understand."

"In that case, I think I should leave you to your work." Damon smiled at her politely. "You have done an incredible job here, Meredith."

"Thank you."

As he left the laboratory, Damon began worrying about Elena's ability to interpret certain forms of subtlety. He hadn't liked the idea of leaving her alone, but he had wanted the know more about the laboratory. Damon had also wanted a chance to discover more about Meredith Fell. He was sure she wasn't just an ordinary scientist. She was important here.

He was satisfied with the first goal. He now had a good internal picture of the R&D Lab. As for the second goal, Damon wasn't so certain. But there was no doubt that Meredith was a very formidable female.

x x x

"You haven't told me about your fiancé," Isobel said.

Startled, Elena frowned. "You have heard."

They were sitting in her office, going through some reports and her schedule for the week.

"I think everyone in the company is talking about the boss's fiancé this morning." Isobel stared expectantly at Elena. "So I repeat: who is this fiancée?"

Elena swore to herself—potently vile, offensive curse words that undoubtedly were not in the vocabulary of most billionaire heiresses. She knew that Isobel would never, ever in a million years let this go until she had some answers. The jig was officially up.

"Damon Stanhope."

Elena looked up and found standing in the doorway, his shoulder casually propped against the frame. He grinned and walked towards them.

"You must be Isobel." He held out his hand in introduction. "I'm Damon, Elena's fiancé."

"Interesting." Isobel's eyes went wide as she slowly shook his hand. "Isobel Fleming." She let her gaze travel up and up before she got to Damon's face.

She turned to Elena with a grin that spoke volumes. _He is hot._ "Now I know why you want to keep this as a secret."

"Isobel, we…" Elena looked at Damon for help.

"I was in Europe when Elena was kidnapped," Damon explained. "We were kind of having some disagreement at that time. I was too consumed by my job. But now we are good." He winked at Elena. "Aren't we, honey?"

Elena was fascinated by how smooth Damon could lie but she understood that she needed to play along with the small talk. "Yes, we are."

"Aw, aren't you two just the cutest?" Isobel smiled at Elena. "You should definitely keep this one." She turned her attention back to Damon. "So tell me all about yourself, Damon. I'm eager for the details."

Damon opened his mouth, but Elena promptly cut him off. She didn't want to tell so many lies. "Actually, Isobel, we will have to take a rain check on the meet and greet. Damon and I have to go. Can we catch up later?"

Isobel studied her suspiciously. "You are acting awfully odd. What is going on here?"

Damon came to her rescue. "It is my fault. I have made an appointment with a car dealer and I have roped Elena into coming with me to look at some cars." He slid his arm around Elena's waist and pulled her close.

"You are looking for a car?" Isobel asked.

"Yes," Damon replied. "I need a car to get to work. From now, I will be working at the R&D Lab."

"Oh, wow." Isobel grinned. "That will be exciting."

Elena clapped her hands together, not disagreeing with that. "So, I don't mean to rush you out, Isobel"—of course she did—"but Damon and I really should get going."

She somehow managed to get Isobel out of her office without any more deceit or trickery, and shut the door behind Isobel with a groan. "I hate to…"

Damon covered her mouth with his finger, cutting her off. "Hush, love. I know you hate not being with me. I feel the same, too."

Elena glared at him and started to back away. "What the hell?"

"I said," he reached out and caught her arm again, halting her retreat. "I have missed you."

"Now, see here, Damon," Elena began heatedly, intending to give him a stern lecture on the subject of the exact status of their relationship. But she never got to finish the tirade. Damon handed his phone to Elena.

"I found my introduction to the R&D Lab very interesting. And speaking of interesting, what do you think about this lovely boutique café in town that I have found?"

When she took it, she saw a warning typed onto the screen: WE MIGHT BE WATCHED. FOLLOW MY LEAD.

A chill ran down her back. Watched by whom? She handed Damon back his phone, her heart suddenly racing. "It looks pretty good."

Damon did something unexpected. He raised one hand and wrapped it lightly around the nape of her neck. "Why don't we have lunch there?"

Elena swallowed hard. "Sounds like a good idea."

On their way to the café, Elena noticed that Damon kept a watchful eye out as they walked the few blocks from Gilbert & Company—presumably checking to see if they were being followed. How surreal that this was her life now, she thought. Making up a fake fiancé, lying to her friends and family, and looking out for some unknown person who might be the murderer of her father and potentially wanted to kill her as well.

How complicated could her life be?

Damon held the door open for her when they arrived at cafe. She hurried into the coffee shop, savouring the warmth inside and the anticipation of getting her much-needed caffeine fix. She checked out the other customers, looking for anyone who might be suspicious. She shivered, a combination of nerves and excitement, and decided that she had become quite the badass these days. She was working together with an undercover agent.

Not any undercover agent. But Damon. The sense of intimacy was spellbinding.

"Now you can talk all you want," Damon said after the waiter had delivered an appetiser of chilled shellfish. "It is very crowded here. The noise in the crowd should drown out whatever we say."

A lightbulb went on inside her head. "Oh." A curious disappointment coursed through her. Damon was clearly all business at the moment. She squeezed a wedge of lemon over the cold mussels, clams and oysters. "How did your tour go this morning?"

He helped himself to one of the mussels. "Do I detect a slight waspish note?"

"Don't blame me, I have a hard morning. I hate telling lies."

"You are doing fine, Elena. Trust me."

"Do you ever get tired of it?"

"Tired of what?"

"Manipulating people. Telling lies."

He shrugged. "Everybody lies."

"That's not true."

"Trust me, darling. You will get used to it."

She wrinkled her nose. "This secret agent stuff is your thing, not mine. Now tell me every single detail of your tour in the R&D Lab. Did Meredith make a pass?"

Damon tilted his head to one side. "How did you know?"

"Are you blind or what? You had her drooling all over you this morning." Elena cursed silently when the words came out. Dammit! She sounded like a jealous bitch.

He looked amused. "I thought you didn't notice."

She rolled her eyes. "What did she tell you?"

"About what?"

"About the lab and the research projects going on. Come on, Damon, I know you didn't waste that whole trip playing slap and tickle with Meredith. Learn anything interesting?"

"John and Meredith are an item, if you haven't noticed."

Elena raised her brows. "No kidding? They have managed to keep that quiet. Everyone thinks that John is single."

"I think they don't want anyone to know about their relationship."

"And why is that?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I will tell you one thing. She is important in the company, Elena. Don't forget she is the Head of the R&D Lab. She is involved with all the research projects and drug manufacturing."

"My father had always said that John is a science geek who only enjoys spending his time in the lab."

He picked up a tiny fork and pried one of the clams out of the shell. "They are two of a kind."

Elena considered that. "Okay, but I don't see where that takes us. So, what if Meredith and John are in a relationship? What's that prove?"

"Nothing. It is just an interesting piece of observation."

"I don't think I understand."

"Meredith is a smart and beautiful woman. Why would she stick with John when she could have other better choices?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Better choices?"

"It strikes me that Meredith Fell is not that kind of woman who would stick devotedly by a man she doesn't find useful."

"You think she is using John?"

"It is possible," Damon suggested softly. "It doesn't occur to me to me that John has what she wants."

"What does she want besides sex and money?"

"You really don't like that woman, do you?"

"Don't change the subject," Elena warned.

Damon smiled faintly. "I will tell you what she might want. Power."

That brought Elena's head up sharply. "Power? What kind of power?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. But my instinct tells me that John isn't the man who can give her the power. But your father could."

Her eyes widened a little. "My father? You think my father had an affair with her?"

"Women like Meredith will have excellent instincts when it comes to selecting winners. She might have viewed John as having long-term potential, your father certainly had looked like more of a sure thing."

Elena thought about it. She couldn't resist. "And why did she make a pass on you? Does she view you as having potential?"

He chuckled. "You sound jealous."

"If I sound jealous," Elena retorted, leaning closer across the table, "then there is something terribly wrong with your hearing!"

He grinned at her. "Right."

She ignored him. "This is not funny."

"Huh."

There was a brief silence.

"Do you think Meredith has something to do with my father's death?" she asked after a while.

"There are still a lot of unanswered questions," Damon said thoughtfully. "Why would Meredith kill your father if she can get what she wants from him?"

"You are right," Elena muttered. "It doesn't make sense."

"We don't have any hard evidence right now, it is all guesswork."

She popped a mussel out of its shell and put it between her lips. "What do we do with all this guesswork?"

"We get a little more information, if we can."

Elena looked at him in alarm. "What are you going to do?"

"I haven't seen all I want this morning."

Understanding hit her. "You are going to search the laboratory, aren't you? Damon, you can't take that risk. What if you trigger the alarm system while you are inside? If you get caught you will be arrested for breaking and entering. You could end up in jail."

"You are worried about me, aren't you?"

"This is not amusing," she said. "I'm serious. This is too risky."

"Gilbert & Company is launching a new drug later this week. Everyone will be busy."

Elena looked at him. She groaned. "You are serious, aren't you?"

Damon smiled. "Hell, yes. Haven't had this much fun in years."

* * *

 **Another chapter of Delena:) I hope my readers will enjoy this chapter. This story is definitely a challenge to write but I'm enjoying it so far. Most important of all, I know my readers are there to support me. Thank you so much:) This Delena fanfiction website is amazing - there are so many talented writers here.**

 **Captive of her beauty by Salvatoreboys4ever - absolutely fantastic! Make you feel my love by Delenadreams - the story is so sweet. Bride of the seas by TheLittle MissVixen, and many wonderful stories of scarlett2112 (Rainy Days and Monday is my favourite) are awesome:) Please make sure you guys/gals check them out.**


	21. Chapter 21

Elena was still annoyed and sulking at Damon's idea of searching the laboratory when they returned to Grayson's mansion later that evening. Jack was arranging two dozen breathtakingly gorgeous red roses in a vase on the hall table when they got inside.

"What is this?" Elena asked.

"From a secret admirer?" Damon asked sarcastically.

"Mr Davis is here to see you," Jack said flatly.

She groaned. "Please tell me the roses are not from Liam." She definitely was not in the mood to deal with that situation right then.

Damon frowned. "What does he want?"

"I want to speak to Elena."

They turned and found Liam standing in the hall.

Damon frowned impatiently. "I see you are still around, Davis."

Liam ignored him. "Can we talk, Elena? Please?"

"I will talk to Liam in the living room," Elena said.

"Fine," Damon said. "Don't be long."

What Damon did next surprise her. He angled his head and gave Elena a quick, possessive kiss that caught her by surprise. He didn't bother to wait for a response. Instead, he straightened and gave her a narrow-eyed look.

"I will see you soon. Got a lot to do tonight."

He headed for the stairs without looking at Liam. Elena watched him with a mix of irritation and amusement.

Liam watched Elena, too, his jaw very tight. "Someday you will have to tell me what you see in him." He paused deliberately. "What you are doing is crazy."

She frowned as she realised Jack was watching them. "Why don't we talk in the living room?"

"Fine."

Jack asked, "Do you need anything, Miss Gilbert?"

She shook her head. "There is nothing I need. Thanks, Jack."

She led the way through the hallway and into a formal living room with a grand piano at one end and a large fireplace with a raised marble hearth at the other. "Have a sit." With an expansive wave of her arm, Elena gestured toward the sofas and the pair of chairs beside them that faced the piano; then she walked over and stood near the keyboard.

Liam sat on one of the sofas. "I'm starting to get worried."

"About what?"

"This whole undercover thing. In case you have forgotten, someone wants you dead."

She took a breath and let it out slowly. "We have talked about this, Liam."

"Elena, you know this is crazy."

"No, it is not. I know what I'm doing."

He scowled. "You are not acting like yourself. This isn't you."

"Got news for you, Liam, it is me."

Liam narrowed his eyes. "It is Damon. He is the problem here, isn't he?"

"I'm not going to discuss Damon with you."

"Too bad, it is what I want to talk about," he said, his voice rising. "I don't trust him. He is dangerous."

"He is doing his job." She felt her own temper rising. "I think I have forgotten to mention. He saved my life."

Liam grunted. "You really think you can figure out whoever is behind this?"

Elena exhaled slowly. "I hope so. I really like to find some answers."

"It is not your job. You are not a private investigator."

"You don't understand, do you?"

"No, I don't!" He fired back. "You are sleeping with him. That's all I know."

Elena glared at him. "This is not about Damon. This is about my father and his company."

Liam stood. "Then let the FBI deal with it."

"I want you to leave now, Liam."

She started towards the door leading to the hallway.

Liam lunged after her. He seized her upper arm, forcing her to stop.

"Let the FBI deal with the investigation," Liam said. "Stay out of it."

She glanced down at his hand. "Let me go."

"Listen to me, dammit, this is crazy, Elena."

"Take your hands off her," Damon said with a low, deadly voice.

Elena felt the shock that snapped through Liam. His hand dropped away. He glared at Damon.

"Don't you dare threaten me," he said. "I'm trying to talk to Elena. She is my client, damn it. I have got a right."

Damon ignored him. He looked at Elena.

"Finished in here?" he asked.

"Elena, don't listen to him," Liam hissed. "I know what is best…"

"I told you what is best for Elena," Damon interrupted in a low, deadly voice. "Get your ass out here."

"You stop talking to me like that!" Liam spat out furiously. "I…"

"Save your breath, Davis," Damon snapped. "If I know you try to interfere with what we are doing, I will make sure you are being locked up for the rest of your life."

That stopped Liam. His face fell. "I won't be intimidated."

"That's enough, Damon." Elena wrapped her hand around Damon's arm. "Liam, please leave now."

Jack appeared from the hallway. "Is there a problem?" he asked. The question was coolly polite, but there was steel in his eyes. "Miss Gilbert?"

"It is all right, Jack," Elena said quickly.

The situation was deteriorating. She knew that she had to separate the two men as fast as possible.

"Liam and I have finished our business discussion," she said to Jack. "Please see Mr Davis out."

She whisked past Damon and he reluctantly turned away from his prey and followed her. They climbed the stairs in silence. Liam stalked out of the living room, crossed the hallway and left.

Elena walked into her room. Damon closed the door and stood with his back to it.

"What was going on down there?" he asked.

She sank down onto the side of the bed. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Liam is still upset about the whole undercover stuff." She planted her hands behind her on the quilt and braced herself. "He will understand eventually."

"He is a jerk."

"Don't say that."

Something inside Damon snapped. "Why not? Do you like him?"

Elena stood up. "Why do you care?"

He came towards her with smooth, pacing strides. "Because you are my fiancée."

"Fake!" she shouted. "I'm your fake fiancée. I don't give a damn how many women you have screwed. Which means that if I like Liam, or any other man, that's my business, not yours."

"The hell it isn't," he growled. "I'm making it my business."

He was very close now. Elena risked a quick glance over her shoulder and found she was less than two feet from the wall. There was no more room to run. She looked back at Damon, tried to gage the distance as best she could, then dove wildly past him.

"Dammit, Elena!"

Before Elena realised what had happened, his arm was suddenly in the middle of her flight path, coiling around her and whirling her gently to an abrupt halt. She came up against Damon's chest with a silent thud and found her face pressed into his shoulder. The warm, sexy scent of him assailed her nostrils.

"Let me go." The words were muffled against his shoulder.

"Not yet, sweetheart." He started to fold her closer. "Not for a long time."

Elena felt his other arm around her, locking her to him. She reacted instinctively, driving her small fist into his ribs. It felt as though she had struck a solid wall, but she had the satisfaction of hearing Damon's sharp intake of bream. His grip loosened slightly and Elena danced back out of reach. A new kind of excitement washed over her.

He wasn't invincible.

"So, you are not all that tough, after all, are you?" Her mood was shifting with a rapidity that left her feeling euphoric. A wave of adrenaline seemed to have unleashed itself in her bloodstream. Elena found herself enjoying a heady sensation of power. "I warned you not to use your clever little tricks on me. I took a class in self-defence once."

"Is that right?"

"Damn right." She edged a few more steps away from him.

"Are you sure you want to turn this into a battle, Elena?"

"What I'm sure of is that I want you to go back to your room and leave me in peace."

"I can't do that."

"Try."

"And leave you here by yourself to think about what a charming, educated, cosmopolitan man Liam Davis is? Not a chance. I want you to think about me tonight, Elena."

She felt her breath catch in her throat. "Are you jealous, by any chance?"

His eyes were fathomless. "Is that what you want? Did you want to see if you could whip up a little jealousy?"

"Not much chance of that, is there?" she shot back, goaded to a rashness she knew she would probably regret. "You have got too much cold blood in your veins."

Something flashed in his gaze, and in spite of the precarious position in which she found herself, Elena felt a flicker of triumph. It was dangerous to prod Damon Salvatore, but at times it seemed the only way to find out what lay beneath the surface of this man.

"Maybe what I need is some of your warmth to take the chill off, Elena."

He flowed toward her without any warning, his hand snapping out to catch her by the nape of the neck even as she tried frantically to duck back out of the way.

"Damn it, Damon," she hissed, "Let me go." She brought her hands up quickly in an attempt to break his hold and shoved against the wall of his chest. When nothing happened, Elena used both hands to try to dislodge the gentle grip on her nape.

He was drawing her inexorably towards the bed. She tried another rib punch, aware that she was severely hampered in the conflict because she didn't really want to hurt Damon. The knee-to-the-groin routine and the finger-in-the-eye bit were definitely off limits.

Damon didn't seem to notice her side punch, but he must have felt her heel when she brought it down fiercely on his bare toes because he reacted immediately. He swore, something very short and very crude. Elena had never heard him use the word before. He used his convenient grip on the nape of her neck to yank her off his foot and then he gave her a small shake. "You little witch. I ought to turn you over my knee."

Elena gave him a fierce, reckless smile that showed all her fine white teeth. "Let go of me, Damon. I swear I will make you sorry if you don't."

She hooked her foot around his ankle and tugged violently. Damon didn't lose his balance, but he finally lost his temper.

"That does it," he said between clenched teeth. "If you want to do this the hard way, we will do it the hard way." He swung her off her feet and into his arms, ignoring her wriggling, twisting efforts to free herself.

In two strides, he reached the bed and tossed her lightly down across the rumpled sheets. Her legs dangled over the edge. Before Elena could scramble out of the way, Damon stepped between her knees.

He spread his own legs into a wide stance that had the instant effect of prying Elena's thighs far apart. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, her eyes widening with the realization that she might have gone too far. Hands on hips, Damon stood looking down at her.

Elena caught her breath at the implacable, deeply sensual expression that etched his mouth and filled the bottomless pools of his eyes. She could feel the new level of tension radiating from him.

"Anything else you learned in that self-defence class you would like to try before we stop playing games?" Damon asked with silky menace.

"Let go of me."

"Never."

She went rigid. "If you don't get your hands off me, I will yell this bloody place down."

"There were times I hated myself for—"

"Then that makes two of us."

"Other times I hated you for making objectivity impossible."

She huffed a laugh. "Nothing you say will ever make me believe that."

"Good. I'm tired of talking."

He leaned down and kissed her, hot and demanding.

She gasped against his mouth. "Stop it. I mean it, Damon. I don't want this."

"No, you don't want to want it. Big difference."

He didn't care how many ethics codes he was violating, unless she put words into action and stopped him, he was going to get carnal with her mouth. He was going to mate with it for as long as she and time allowed.

The pressure against her mouth was deep and persuasive and undeniable. She moaned softly and opened her mouth to him, bracing herself for the invasion of his tongue. She swirled her tongue around his, no playing around this time, and no teasing. When she arched against him, he released his grip and slid his hands down her arms. Then he continued over the swell of her breasts.

When he reluctantly broke free of her mouth and began to trail questing, tormenting little kisses along the line of her jaw and up to her earlobe, Elena sighed in wonder. Her arms wound around his neck. The hard, muscles contours of his shoulders compelled her touch. She pressed her nails delicately into the fabric of his shirt, finding the resilient flesh beneath the garment.

Lifting his face away from hers, he whispered roughly, "I'm going to have you, Elena."

Her eyes were still angry, but now also lambent with arousal as she stared into his.

"You know it as well as I do, don't you?"

Slowly, she nodded.

A knock sounded on the door. "Miss Gilbert?" Jack said.

With the distraction of Jack's voice, Damon backed away from her and she leaped off the bed. He watched her walked towards the door, noticing that she touched her fingers to her lips as she opened the door. He could still feel his own lips there, could still taste the intoxicating flavour of her.

"Is everything okay, Miss Gilbert?" Jack asked, his brows raised.

She ran her hand through her hair. "Yeah. What's up?"

"Mr John Gilbert is here to see Mr Stanhope."

x x x

Damon looked at John. "Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you came by the house to visit us. I was just wondering if the reason you are here is because you are worried about the future of Gilbert & Company, or because you are concerned about your niece?"

"What do you think?" John did not the seat that Damon had offered. He went to stand at the window, instead.

"Most of the people she has met so far seem more concerned about her controlling shares than anything else," Damon said dryly as he sat down on the sofa.

John shot him a quick, annoyed glanced before turning back to the window. "It is not that they don't care about her, you know. A lot of it is my brother's fault." John's jaw tightened. "She shouldn't have inherited his head for business."

"Then who should?" Damon asked. "You?"

"Elena has always wanted to become a doctor and it suits her. She has no interest in business. It is a big burden to put on a kid's shoulder."

"So, you think if she sells you all the shares, she doesn't have to stick with the full responsibility for Gilbert & Company?"

"It is a way of letting her off the hook."

"Have you considered the possibility that in the end she actually wants to take the full responsibility for Gilbert & Company, after all?" Damon asked quietly.

John's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't make any sense. She will be much better being a doctor than dealing with the business. I don't understand the girl."

"Do you know why did she agree to take the full responsibility for the company?"

"Why?"

"Because she understands her responsibilities to the family. Since her father is gone, she will watch out for Gilbert interests."

John shot him a considering look. "You know her very well, already, don't you?"

Damon shrugged. "We have some things in common."

John's gaze did not waver. "I want to know what happens next between the two of you."

"Are you, by any chance, asking me if my intentions are honorable?"

John thought about it. "Yes, that's what I want to know."

"What are you afraid of?"

There was a brief silence before John spoke again.

"Your timing was pretty damn good in this case, wasn't it?" John watched him warily. "Because she has inherited a major portion of Gilbert & Company. Marrying Elena would have given you what you want."

"What do I want?" Damon asked coolly.

"Money. Power. That's what you really want. That's why you are sticking with her."

"The subject of marriage has not come up. But if it does, I can tell you this much, John. I don't think Elena would marry me if she thinks I'm after her company. Your niece is a smart woman."

John hesitated. Then he nodded once. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the living room.

Damon waited until the front door had closed before he got slowly to his feet. He walked to the window and looked at the sky.

What did he want? He wondered.

Damon Salvatore didn't do relationship. Working undercover for months at a time virtually precluded the possibility. Right now, he was focused on his job, and he liked being focused on his job. He had been working undercover jobs for six years now, and he was good at it.

Relationship.

It occurred to him he didn't like the word. Probably because he didn't completely understand it. It was too vague, too imprecise, and it covered too much territory. It was a word he couldn't fully comprehend or understand, a woman's word. A female could use it and pin any meaning she wanted on it, leaving a man to flounder in search of a definition. Besides, it didn't begin to describe the bond that existed between him and Elena.

But the bottom line was that he wanted Elena. Any way he could get her. He was in a very dangerous territory without a map.

He was still standing at the window when Elena came into the living room. He glanced at her as she moved to stand beside him. He tried to ignore the weight of her gaze, but found this impossible.

"What?" he said.

"I heard what you said to John." She paused. "About me taking full responsibility for the company."

"I have a brother. I understand family loyalty. Your father was lucky to have a daughter who is willing to do something like this for him."

Elena brushed her bangs out of her eyes, not having expected an actual compliment from him. "You are full of surprises, Damon Salvatore."

He raised one brow. "Am I?"

She smiled. "You can actually compliment instead of annoying me."

He seemed to think about this. "Maybe because I can quite easily annoy you, apparently." He took a step closer and studied her face. "I bet you need a few more people in your life who annoy you."

She laughed softly. "You are a terrible person."

"I'm not the good guy, Elena. I don't pretend to be Mr Charming Attorney."

"You are jealous of Liam."

"I'm jealous of Mr Charming Attorney?" He smirked. "You must be kidding!"

"You are jealous, Damon."

Getting testy, he said, "No, I'm not."

"Hah."

"Stop trying to provoke me."

"You really don't like Liam, do you?"

"No, I don't," he grumbled.

She laughed again. "I don't think he likes you, either."

"Nobody does."

"I do."

* * *

 **Well, Elena actually like Damon. What do you guys/gals think? I hope I have managed to bring out the dynamics and chemistry of Delena in this chapter. I enjoy writing jealous Damon but I also love jealous Elena, LOL! In fact, I really like writing the interaction of Damon and Elena in this story, and I end up laughing out loud most of the time.**

 **Hopefully my readers will enjoy this story as much as I do. I promise I will keep on improving my writing. Thank you for the wonderful support so far:)**


	22. Chapter 22

Following Elena's hushed proclamation, neither she nor Damon moved or said anything. For several moments, the only sound was that of ticking sound of the clock hanging on the wall.

Damon put his hand around the nape of her neck, using his thumb to lift her chin. His eyes were dark. "Why?"

"Why do I like you?" How best to explain it? After consideration, she said, "Well, I don't like you seventy-five percent of the time."

"But what do you think about the other twenty-five percent?"

"You don't make excuses for yourself. You don't apologize for who you are. You show people who you really are."

He reached for her hand and pulled her close to him. As before, he cradled her face between his hands and tilted her head back. His eyes roved over her features, perhaps looking for a more comprehensive explanation for what she had said, or for a protest when he nudged her feet apart so he could stand between them.

He bumped her once, then again, testing her willingness. She tilted against him invitingly, and when he paired the notch of her thighs with the erection inside his jeans, the warmth of desire spread through her middle like the finest of liqueurs.

She closed her eyes and let her neck go limp, relying solely on his hands to hold her head up. She whispered, "I shouldn't be doing this. I don't even like you seventy-five percent of the time."

His voice was a silky, hot caress. "But you like me twenty-five percent of the time. That is enough."

Then his mouth closed over hers.

Heat and sparkling energy crackled through her. He made the kiss last a long time, not rushing her.

A slow hunger and crackers built inside her, tightening her lower body. She could kiss him like this for weeks or months at a time, she thought, relaxing into the embrace. The sleek, muscled contours of his back felt wonderful beneath her hands.

They slammed against the brick wall next to the window. Damon's mouth slid down to her neck, and Elena felt as though her legs melted right there.

"Told myself I wasn't going to do this tonight," Damon said. "Clearly I lied."

His hands slid up the front of her shirt and gripped the collar. He pulled impatiently, and the first button popped open. Then the second.

He pushed back and took in her now exposed bra. His eyes moved to her face and he heatedly held her gaze. He popped open the third button while she watched.

"You could tell me to stop," he said huskily.

Yes, she could.

When she remained silent, he yanked harder and popped open the fourth and last buttons at the same time. She felt the rush of cool air against her heated skin as he captured her mouth with his. While his tongue swirled around hers, he pulled down one of the cups of her bra, groaning deep in his chest when her breast spilled free.

"Damon," she breathed.

He lowered his head and teased one of her nipples with his tongue. She threaded her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of the thick, soft layers.

He yanked down the other cup of her bra, so that both of her breasts were pushed up for his mouth. He groaned when she arched forward eagerly against the brick wall. "God, Elena, you are so beautiful."

For you, she nearly blurted out. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes when his tongue twirled around the peaked tip of her other breast. He slid one of his hands up her thigh, underneath her skirt, and her body trembled with anticipation. He nipped the tight bud of her nipple at the same moment he slid his hand into her panties and cupped her. She gasped, overloaded by the sensation.

He slid a finger inside her and moved it in and out in a deliciously slow motion. He added another finger, and then brushed his thumb against her clit, teasing her until her legs were shaking.

"Do you want this?" His lips swept over hers as he continued the exquisite torture with his fingers. "I want to hear you say it. No more games, no more sarcasm. Just the truth."

She didn't need to think—she already knew the truth. Want, need, and surrender unfurled in her. Maybe she was a fool but she knew she wanted him. And most important of all, Damon wanted her.

She pulled back to meet his eyes. "Take me to the bedroom."

Something happened.

She saw it on his face—his expression softened. The tough exterior, the walls, the mask he wore as an undercover agent melted away, leaving just him. He said her name and kissed her again, and she met his mouth eagerly.

When they broke apart, he held her face in his hands, his gaze hot and possessive. "If I take you back to your room, I'm staying. All night."

Elena nodded. "You can't leave until you have my permission."

His laugh was rough and sexy. "You are amazing, Elena Gilbert."

He scooped her up against his chest. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him. It took a while to get to their destination because every few steps he stopped and pinned her against the wall long enough to kiss her and remove their clothing. By the time they reached the shadows of her bedroom she had somehow managed to shed all of her clothes except for her panties.

He paused just long enough to get out of his pants and briefs and remove a small foil packet from the pocket of his pants. He tore off the top of the packet with his teeth.

And then he was coming down on top of her, one leg anchoring her thigh so that she was open to his touch.

And then the world went away. All that mattered was the hot, damp passion of their lovemaking.

Damon's kisses singed every part of her from head to toe. When he found the inside of her thigh she gasped and clutched at him. Burying her fingers in his hair, she twisted beneath him, feeling full and achy and frantic.

When she reached down to cup him in her palm, he groaned, rolled to cover her and rested his forehead on hers. She could have sworn he was shaking a little. His back was slick with perspiration.

He reached down between their bodies, found the part of her that was clenched tight and gently pried it open with his fingers. Her hips came up off the bed in response. With his hand he urged her towards the response that her body demanded.

When her release struck she was so overwhelmed and so undone she could not even cry out. She convulsed, sinking her nails into his back.

She was vaguely aware of Damon shifting his weight, sliding heavily between her legs.

He pushed himself deliberately into her, stretching her, filling her completely.

She was stunned to feel herself coming again. Damon rode the new tremors with her, pounding hard and fast into her body. His back was slick with perspiration, every muscle rigid.

The bedsprings groaned loudly, rhythmically in protest. The headboard slammed again and again against the wall. Her emotions were in utter, mystifying chaos. She wanted to laugh and was amazed when she felt tears in her eyes. The only thing that mattered was the man in her arms.

It seemed impossible, but Damon's hoarse shout of exultant, triumphant release gave her as much pure, unadulterated pleasure and satisfaction as her own climax.

x x x

Damon gradually drifted back to full awareness. He took his time about it, savouring the feel of Elena's body curled alongside his own. Her head was cradled on his arm. She had one palm resting on his chest and one foot wedged tantalizingly intimately between his legs. He felt her flex her toes a few times as though she liked touching him that way.

A warm, heavy, very bright sensation drifted through him. He could not remember the last time he had felt like this.

Maybe never. He shoved a pillow under his head and smiled into the shadows.

"Are you okay?" She folded her arms on his chest and rested her chin on her hands. "Did I hurt you? Your wound, I mean."

He smiled and slowly shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Let me check it."

"It is fine. And even if it was bleeding, you are not going anywhere."

She grinned. "Good. I like it here."

He shot her a crocodile grin. "In my dreams, I couldn't keep my hands off you."

"You dreamed about me?"

"When I was coming out of anaesthesia. Really dirty stuff."

"Dare I ask?"

"Not unless you want to be embarrassed."

She laughed. "You are so naughty, Damon Salvatore."

He laughed, too. "Oh, admit it. You love it."

She ducked her head shyly then came up and looked into his face. "You never did tell me."

"About?"

"The Strangler."

He raised his brows. "You knew it was me in the alley that night?"

Elena nodded. "I recognise your voice and your eyes. You were following him that night."

"The daughter of a friend of mine was murdered by that bastard."

Her mouth went dry. "My God."

"My friend wanted him very, very badly. So did I. I couldn't let that bastard hurt another woman anymore."

"But there was no news about the death of the Strangler…"

"I was still working undercover at that time. Enzo couldn't expose my identity. He had put pressure on everyone he knew in the FBI and Justice Department to cover up for my mess." His jaw tightened. "I didn't regret killing him. He was a monster."

"Oh." She did not know what else to say.

His mouth twisted. "Now you are scared, aren't you?"

"No. Honest."

"You probably should be."

"You don't scare me, Damon Salvatore."

His voice had a rough edge. "Maybe you should. I have been thinking about getting you naked since the first time I saw you in the alley." He ran his thumb along her lower lip. "I have thought about a lot of things."

While holding his gaze, Elena licked the tip of his thumb and watched as his eyes turned dark and smouldering. "I have thought about a lot of things, too. About you."

"Then we better do something about it."

He pulled her mouth down to his. He kissed her until she wrapped herself around him once more.

A long time later, he awoke to the feel of someone shaking him gently.

"Damon," Elena said.

"What?" He did not open his eyes.

"Damon, wake up."

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Are you awake?"

"No."

"I have to ask you a question."

"Can't it wait until morning?"

"No."

"Fine." He opened one eye. "What's the question?"

"You have never said, but I hope you are not married."

"A little late to be asking, but no."

"Ever?"

"I thought you said one question."

She frowned. "Answer my question, please."

"No."

"All of that's true?"

"Scout's honour."

There was a brief silence, as if Elena was trying to work out whether to trust his words or not.

"Can I go back to sleep?" he asked with a yawn.

"You are not taking this problem very seriously, are you?"

"No," he admitted into the pillow. "Probably because I don't see a problem here."

"Of all the lies you have told me—"

"Part of the job."

"I know. But…"

"No more but."

Her look let him know he wouldn't get by with that.

He sighed in resignation. "Fine, you carry on."

"I just want to know one thing," she said.

"Why are you sleeping with me?"

"Because I want to."

She punched him lightly on the arm. "Take this seriously, Damon."

"I'm serious."

"Oh, no, you aren't." She pounced, leaping astride his back and seizing his shoulders. "When I ask you a question, can you think properly before you answer me?"

"Spoken like a real CEO."

"Dammit, Damon! I swear I'm going to strangle you if…"

Damon surged up off the bed, dislodging her and sending her tumbling back onto the pillows. He leaned over her, eyes gleaming in the shadows. "Then let me explain it. I saw you, wanted you, and didn't give a damn who you were related to. I still don't."

Then he kissed her.

The first kiss left her breathless. All those that came after left her boneless. His lips and tongue were everywhere, a gentle suction combined with a fluid swirl—on the undersides of her arms, the insides of her thighs, behind her knees, the arches of her feet. They mapped her throat, breasts, nipples, navel, and the shallow channels that funnelled from her hip bones to her sex. Where they lingered.

Murmuring endearments in the syntax of both sinners and saints, he lavished her with caresses. But before she came, he turned her onto her stomach, straddled her legs, and kissed his way down her spine.

Sliding his hand between her legs, he pushed his fingers into where he had left her achy and melting, then in graphic detail, talked her through what he was doing to her. It was erotic and exciting and uniquely Damon.

But what finally broke her control was the way in which he described, in ragged whispers, how good she felt to him. With his voice and touch leaving her no choice, she ground herself against his hand, undulating between his chest and the bed until she collapsed.

Before she had fully recovered, he turned her onto her back and pressed open her thighs. Then he was inside her, hard and full and vital, a male mating. He pulled her hands above her head and held them there, but not as securely as his gaze held hers.

His intensity wasn't entirely self-gratifying. He was sensitive to her responses, accommodating each slight shift of her body, interpreting every sound, anticipating what she wanted before she knew it herself.

She wasn't as satiated as she'd believed, because when he adjusted his angle so that each thrust, some slow, others quick, stroked her where she was most susceptible, she arched involuntarily, asking for more.

At the perfect time, he went deep and grafted his body to hers. The rotating motion of his hips was slight, but the pleasure immense. At that spot where they were fused, it collected, concentrated, and then burst, overwhelming her again.

He let himself come, his forehead against hers, his hands linked with hers above her head, his breath uneven and hot against her face.

They rested for long moments before he raised his head and looked into her face. He brushed aside a strand of her hair that had become ensnared in his scruff. She didn't realize her eyes had leaked tears until he sipped them off her cheeks. "I made you cry."

Worse, she thought. You made me care.

* * *

 **Another Delena chapter. I hope my readers will enjoy reading this chapter. I know some of you think Damon is so full of himself. He is arrogant and glib. But Damon is Damon. I don't really want to change his character, LOL! This is the Damon we like, isn't it? Makes us grit our teeth at times but we can't really hate him because he is still a good guy in the end:)**

 **Once again, I want to thanks my readers for their support and wonderful reviews. Please check out all those amazing writers in this fanfiction - Salvatoreboys4ever, Delenadreams, scarlett2112 , TheLittle MissVixen,** **VitsAsh, Mariah April May etc. Rachel3003, a young writer is also pretty amazing.**

 **Enjoy and have a good weekend:)**


	23. Chapter 23

The launch party of Gilbert & Company was in full swing.

Elena stood beside Damon at the edge of the crowd. Her hair was pinned into a sleek, graceful knot at the back of her head. The black trousers and snug-fitting black top she wore revealed a fit, lithe body with a small waist, gently flared hips, and discreetly curved breasts. She looked sexy as hell.

He could think of a couple of other things he would rather do with her at the moment than search a laboratory. But duty called.

"So this is it." She tried to sound nonchalant, but there was a slight shake to her voice.

He spoke quietly. "Elena, look at me."

She did, and he held her gaze.

"Everything will be fine. Trust me."

She nodded, finding comfort in his steady tone. "Okay."

"I'm all set."

"I still say this is a really bad idea," Elena muttered. "What if you get caught?"

"If anyone stops me, which is highly unlikely given that they are all very busy with the party, I will say I just need to check a few emails. Big deal. You really think anyone would arrest the new CEO's fiancé for wandering in the R&D Lab?"

"You never know."

"Stop worrying. You are little tense."

She glared at him. "How am I supposed to relax when my fiancé is going to sneak into the laboratory in the middle of a launch party?"

"Take it easy," he said. "I won't get caught."

"That is very reassuring," she snapped, annoyed with his blithe lack of concern. "But what happens if you do?"

"You pretend to be as shocked as everyone else."

"What are you talking about?"

"If I get caught you just pretend to know nothing about what I was doing in the lab. You tell everyone you are shocked and stunned. Appalled, even. I must have been using you to get access to the R&D Lab. You are an innocent dupe."

"This is not funny."

He cocked his head. "I will get a drink and you keep an eye on Meredith and John."

"Alright," she said with annoyance. The plan was that she would distract Meredith and John while he searched the lab and play cat burglar.

Resentfully Elena started to move towards the crowd where Meredith and John stood. But something made her turn back once more to confront Damon. "Are you sure you are up to this?"

He smiled. "Stop worrying, honey. I'm in complete control."

"I wonder why that doesn't reassure me." Without waiting for a response, she plunged into the crowd, heading towards Meredith and John.

"Sir, do you want a cocktail?" A passing waiter asked, offering him a flute.

"Why not?" He grabbed it and took a sip of the pink drink. "Nice."

He plunged into the crowd and listened politely to the guests around him, drawing as little attention to himself as possible as they discussed about the new drug and research projects happening in the company. He glanced across the room and saw John involved in what appeared to be a serious conversation with Elena. Meredith stood politely beside them, listening. _Time to make my move_ , Damon decided as he finished his glass of cocktail.

He thought about the expression in Elena's eyes as he left the conference room and walked towards the exit staircase. He was going to use the stairs to get to the lab. If anyone spotted him, he was simply a new staff who had gotten lost after having a couple of drinks.

He thought about Elena again. She didn't approve of what he was doing but she was going to help him. She was committed to him, he decided. That pleased him enormously. He liked having her feel committed. When this was all over, he intended to have a long talk with her about their relationship. She was the kind of woman who would stick with a man through thick and thin. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health...

Damn it to hell, he knew for certain now he wasn't feeling normal. Marriage rarely—if ever—crossed his mind.

A wave of queasiness jarred him and he yanked his thoughts back from Elena to his stomach. He couldn't remember the last time he was sick to his stomach. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe it was something he had eaten from the buffet table. But all he had had was a couple of slices of the smoked salmon and some crackers. There was the glass of cocktail, but that was hardly enough to have this kind of effect.

The nausea faded again, leaving behind a strangely pleasant sensation. Damon tried to analyse the feeling. He knew what the adrenaline rush felt like, remembered the exquisite, almost painful tension, and recalled the exhilarating feeling of walking along the sharp edge of an abyss.

He remembered all those feelings very well, just as he remembered his own deep fascination with them.

But he was only getting bits and pieces of those sensations at the moment. Everything seemed to be overlaid by this strange sense of easy-going, light-headed cheerfulness. This light-headedness wasn't quite normal as well.

Damon drew in a deep breath, trying to suppress the abnormal giddiness. He should be feeling a lot of things, but not giddiness. Something was wrong. Under ideal circumstances he would have called off this mission and postponed it until he had his body more completely under control.

It was dangerous being out of control, he reminded himself wisely. He never allowed himself to lose that fundamental sensation of being completely in command of himself when he was on a mission. Never.

 _Except when he made love to Elena._

Every time he took her in his arms he was sure he would be able to handle himself and her. But it always ended in a storm of wild, uninhibited abandonment. He wished he understood what happened when he was around Elena. It worried him that he couldn't explain his passions or his sense of protectiveness or the strange bond that seemed to link him to her.

Well, she wasn't with him now. He had no excuse for feeling unsteady and unnaturally cheerful. Something was wrong, but it was too late to turn back. He had to get the answers today. There wasn't going to be another opportunity.

 _Concentrate, Damon Salvatore, you can do this._

He got out at the level where the R&D Lab was located. The automatic doors leading to the lab were closed. He quickly entered the code into the security system.

Voilà.

Damon stepped inside the lab. He surveyed the lab, getting down to business. Meredith's office. When he reached the door at the end of the hallway, he grabbed the handle and turned.

Locked.

Damn.

He had to stop and think about the security code Meredith had used to unlock it. He had seen it yesterday and he had memorized it. But somehow he had to pause while the tried to recollect the code.

Another wave of nausea hit him at that moment. Christ. Just what he needed.

He staggered slightly as the sick feeling threatened to overwhelm him. It took a fierce act of will to fight down the queasy sensation. He had to control it.

The nausea faded. Then he realised his hand was shaking as he punched the code into the security system. He must be nervous, he thought. But that was ridiculous. Damon Salvatore never get nervous.

Once inside Meredith's office, he glanced around. Something was wrong. The room wavered a little at the edges. The angles straightened in the next instant, but he did not find that reassuring. There were no footsteps or voices, but his intuition warned him that he was not alone. He was good at this kind of thing.

Damn good.

But not good enough at the moment.

Damon sensed the movement behind him but his body didn't react the way it had been trained to do.

Everything went wrong.

x x x

Much to Elena's surprise, she found herself interested in the conversation with Meredith, John and Isobel. Meredith's enthusiasm was contagious, and if John's comments weren't always amazingly insightful or brilliant, one could always take pleasure in just listening to his speaking voice.

"Can I get you ladies another drink?" A passing waiter asked.

Elena looked down at her empty glass and decided not to mention that she had been drinking sparkling water. Unable to help herself, she glanced quickly at John and Meredith. He was saying something to Meredith that was making the other woman smile politely. Then they both turned away to talk to a man with grey hair dressed in a dark blue suit.

"Elena?" Isobel cocked a quizzical brow. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I just need to use the bathroom. If you don't mind."

"Sure." Isobel turned her attention back to the waiter and smiled. "I will have another glass of red wine."

Elena walked past the bathrooms and kept going towards the staircase. Damn it, this was ridiculous. There was nothing to worry about. There was no denying Damon was more than capable of taking care of himself. He always seemed to know what he was doing.

But the sense of uneasiness did not fade away. She began wondering how long it took to thoroughly explore the interior of a laboratory. How long before someone noticed Damon had disappeared?

One thing about this crowd, it did provide good cover. There were a number of men dressed in black or other dark colours scattered around the room. Damon's absence wasn't immediately noticeable.

Nothing should be wrong, but something was.

She got out at the level of the R&D Lab and walked swiftly towards the entrance. The automatic doors were opened.

Something was not right. Damon wouldn't leave the doors open.

When she moved inside, she discovered that only a portion of the lab was illuminated the overhead fluorescent fixtures. This was not right. Damon wouldn't turn on the lights.

Then she heard the sound from the far end of the lab.

A shadow shifted in the opening of the doorway of the office at the far end of the lab. Shock went through her. She caught a glimpse of the figure silhouetted in the opening of the doorway. But she knew it wasn't Damon.

There was another man on the floor. It was Damon.

He couldn't be dead. Not like this. The figure reached down, grasped Damon's upper arm. Damon made no effort to resist.

She had to do something. The man's back was facing her. There wasn't going to be a better chance, Elena thought. She grabbed a photo frame on a nearby desk and slammed the steel frame on the man's shoulder and upper arm again and again.

"Shit," the man's got out, releasing his grip on Damon as he threw up an arm to ward off the blow. "You are crazy."

"Help!" she shouted. "There is an intruder!"

The man snapped, having had enough. "Fuck you both." His eyes narrowed in on Elena. Everything happened at once. Not wasting a moment, Damon leapt up, dove and tackled the man full-force. He pushed the man backwards at the same time, using all his strength to hurtle them towards the metal file cabinet. Damon braced himself—this was going to hurt—as they slammed against the cabinet with a loud bang.

The man screamed out in pain. Damon grabbed him by the throat and flipped him to the ground with one hand. Someone approached from behind them. Damon turned and saw two security guards stormed into the lab.

"Damon." Elena rushed towards him.

"I thought I would never see you again," he said. "Never had missed someone so badly like this before. Dangerous. Strange, huh?"

"What the hell is going on?" John demanded as he strode into the lab. He was not alone. Meredith was with him.

Damon cut Elena off before she could say a word. "Cat burglar. Probably think today is the best time to sneak in because of the launch party."

"Burglar?" John narrowed his eyes as he studied the man being pinned down by the security guards. "How did he get in?"

"Ouch!"

Everyone turned to look at Damon.

He winced. "My ankle hurts. Must have sprained it when I tried to stop the burglar from escaping."

Elena took his hand. "Think you can stand?" she asked softly.

"I don't mind if you can help me." He draped his arm around her shoulder. He moved closer to whisper in her ear. "Get me out of here. Now."

Elena was suddenly getting scared. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

"Do you want us to call an ambulance?" Meredith asked as she studied Damon. "You look terrible."

Damon shook his head and winked at Meredith. "Nah. Just a sprained ankle."

"I will have a look at his ankle," Elena said quickly. "I'm a physician at the ER. I can deal with a simple sprain."

"Yeah, she is a doctor. She likes playing doctor," Damon said and smiled wickedly at Elena. "But you know what? This time you are going to be the patient."

"Shut up, Damon!" Elena demanded through gritted teeth. What was wrong with him? He was behaving oddly. John and Meredith were gazing at them with a shocked expression. "Ignore him," she said with a sigh. "Must be the alcohol and the adrenaline."

Meredith looked at her. "Do you need any help with him?"

"No," said Damon before Elena could decline. "She doesn't need any help with me. She gets plenty of practise playing doctor with me."

"Behave yourself," Elena snapped. "I will get him out of here."

"I didn't realise he had that much to drink," Meredith said.

"He doesn't hold his liquor well."

"That is not true…" Damon protested.

Elena lamped a hand over his mouth. "That's enough out of you," she hissed before turning back to Meredith. "I will let John and you deal with this."

"Of course. You are sure you don't need any help?"

"No, thanks. I can manage." She led Damon towards the elevator and he followed obediently. He waved at Meredith until the elevator doors closed.

Elena released him as though she had been burned. "What is this?" she demanded through set teeth. "Some kind of game? Damon, what is wrong with you?"

He grimaced. "Dammit. I'm feeling sick again. Thought the sick feeling was gone."

She was worried now. "Your stomach is upset? Damon, pay attention to me."

He took a deep breath. "There. It is gone. Damned nausea."

"I think we should call an ambulance."

He shook his head. "No. Don't. Can't let them know."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded softly.

"Need to get out of here," he mumbled.

"You are clearly drunk," she said with annoyance as she led him out of the elevator towards the car park. "How much did you drink?"

"I'm not drunk. I only had one cocktail," he muttered. "Can't be drunk. Never get drunk. Never. Can't risk it. I never drink too much."

Elena stared at him, listening to his mumbled protest. It occurred to her again that he was probably right. He couldn't be drunk. Damon had had a mission today. The last thing he would have done was have too much to drink before tackling the R&D Lab.

She opened the door on the passenger side of her SUV and helped him onto the seat. When she got behind the wheel, she turned to face him. "Damon, if you haven't had too much to drink, what's wrong with you?"

"The Jewels." He put a hand to his head. "The Jewels."

x x x

"Get into the bathroom." Elena pushed Damon down the hall and into her bedroom. "You need water."

"You are damn bossy at times, you know that?" But he followed her into the bathroom.

"You are drugged, for heaven sake!" Elena began unbuttoning his shirt. "You scared me to death, Damon!"

"You are worried about me." He looked at Elena as she shoved the shirt off his shoulders. "You are going to undress me and throw yourself on my body?"

"No, I don't want you to make a mess on your shirt when you throw up."

"I'm not going to throw up."

Elena waited no longer. She reached for a glass beside the sink, filled it with water and handed it to him. "Here, start drinking."

"Not thirsty."

"Just drink it."

He took the cup and drank.

When he was finished, she filled it again and made him consume the liquid. He started to protest when she refilled it a third time.

"No more," he muttered. "Feel sick."

"Good, that's exactly how I want you to feel. But first I want to dilute whatever was used to poison you. Then you can be sick to your heart's content. We will try to get out whatever is left in your stomach. Drink the water, Damon."

He stared at her over the rim of the cup. "You sure this is going to work?"

"Yes. Hurry."

He finished the third glass of water and made a face. "Now what?"

"Now I get to stick my finger down your throat and make you gag."

Damon swung suddenly toward the porcelain bowl. "I don't think you are going to have to use your finger," he said.

Elena steadied him while he was thoroughly and violently ill.

* * *

 **What do you guys/gals thinks? Another Delena chapter as promised but I have added some thrills and action. Hopefully my readers will enjoy reading this chapter. This story is definitely a challenge but I promise I will try my very best to make it a great story for my wonderful readers. Thank you for all the support and kind words so far. Check out those amazing writers I had previously mentioned - I'm so glad to know them:)**


	24. Chapter 24

The boss's eyes burned. He should be dead by now. It was supposed to be an easy task. The boss not like the way things were going. Damon should not have escaped the trap. The drug should have made him an easy target. The problem was Elena Gilbert.

The boss did not like incompetence. Neither did he like failure.

It was lucky Damon hadn't got inside the underground lab.

But the boss knew it was Elena Gilbert's fault. She had to be punished.

x x x

Damon was shaking by the time Elena got him into the shower. Beneath the natural olive tone of his skin he was pale. His eyes were stark in his handsome face and it was obvious that the sheer force of his will was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

But he seemed to be thinking more clearly. At least that was what Elea told herself as she stripped off their clothes and got into the shower beside him. The hot water felt good.

Damon watched enigmatically as she stepped into the shower. "I get the feeling you are not here to join me in some fun and games." He stood braced against the tiled wall with one hand, letting the water pour down on his head.

"You are right. I'm in here to keep you from falling flat on your face."

"Why stop me now? I have been doing a damn good job of it since this whole thing started. Christ, I can't believe I screwed up this bad." He closed his eyes and put out his other hand to help hold himself in an upright position. "What a mess."

"You don't normally screw things up, huh?" Elena knew he was in no condition to continue the ribald teasing he had been indulging in earlier, but she still felt awkward sharing the shower with him. This was a purely therapeutic effort, she reminded herself as she carefully kept her back to him. As soon as he was cleared in his head, she would get him out of the shower.

"No, I don't usually screw things up," Damon said thoughtfully, as if caught up in a sudden need for a dose of self-chastisement. "Especially when it comes to my job. I'm one of the best undercover DEA agents."

"Well, aren't you Mr Wonder Man."

He opened one eye. "You are mad."

"I'm scared." She reached out and turned off the shower. "Come on, Damon. Get dress and you will go to bed."

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Damon said quietly, watching her as she tossed him a towel.

"Don't ever do that again," she warned him.

His mouth crooked slightly. "Yes, madam."

She quickly finished drying herself, wrapped the towel around her body and then reached out to snatch his towel out of his hands. "Now let's get you into some dry clothes. I'm so glad Jack has taken the day off. Otherwise he will have heaps of questions for us."

Damon said nothing. He allowed himself to be led out into the bedroom. He was totally unself-conscious of his nudity. He seemed more concerned with the faint trembling in his hands. The weakness obviously alarmed him.

Elena shot him a quick, worried glance as she shoved a clean T-shirt at him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Where are my pants?"

"Here." She tossed him a pair of jeans with one hand as she wrapped herself into a white robe. "I will make you a cup of tea. Stay right here and don't move, understand?"

His gaze snapped back to her anxious face. "You can stop treating me as if I were a drunken husband who has just embarrassed you at a party. My head is clearing."

"Don't worry, I'm not in any danger of mistaking you for my husband, drunk or otherwise. Now sit down." She pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed. "I will be right back."

After Elena left the room, He took his phone out of his pocket and hit a coded number.

"Enzo – yes, I'm fine. Now listen carefully, someone was caught in the R&D Lab at Gilbert & Company this evening. I want you to follow this. I need to know everything you can find out everything about this guy."

"Alright, I will see what I can do," Enzo said. "How are things going between you and Miss Gilbert?"

He grunted. "That's none of your business."

"Don't give me any of that crap," Enzo warned. "Do I need to remind you that you are in the middle of an investigation?"

"And I don't have to remind you that I'm not demented."

"I expect you to remember that you are a DEA agent, that's what I expect."

"Trust me, that fact hasn't slipped my mind once since I have been here."

Enzo paused, likely surprised by his tone. He responded carefully. "All right, Damon. You seem to have things under control."

"You are damn right," Damon said. He had to get off the phone. He knew he was going to sleep very soon. "Call me as soon as you get anything solid. Thanks."

When Elena got back to the room she found him sprawled on the bed, sound asleep.

She was exhausted. Elena set down the cup of tea on the nightstand, aware of the weariness in her body. She went into the bathroom and stared at her drawn face in the mirror. The sight was not inspiring.

A few minutes later she curled up beside Damon and closed her eyes, wishing for the same deep slumber he had found so easily.

Twenty minutes later she was still awake. She began to wonder if she would ever be able to sleep again.

x x x

Damon awoke with something less than his usual instant awareness, but he knew he had slept off most of the effects of the r drug as well as the additional adrenaline he had forced into his system to deal with the man who tried to kill him.

The additional dose of adrenaline had probably helped eat up what had remained of the drug after Elena's first aid. But the combination of the two had left him totally drained. He had never been so exhausted in his life.

The early morning sunlight was visible between the curtains now. Damon stretched, testing his muscles and strength. Then he turned his head on the pillow and looked for Elena. She should have been sound asleep beside him but she wasn't even on the bed.

Where was she?

Damon levered himself up on one elbow and looked for Elena. He wondered why she wasn't sleeping beside him on the bed. Maybe she was in the bathroom. Or perhaps she had awakened and gone downstairs for breakfast.

But she wasn't in the bathroom and she wasn't at breakfast. She was standing at the window.

"Elena? Are you alright?"

Her head turned quickly. He saw the unnatural brightness in her gaze and realized tension was still consuming her.

"No," she said starkly, "I am not all right. I can't sleep, I can't think, I can't settle down. My insides feel as if they're racing along at a hundred miles an hour."

"It is the stress," Damon said quietly, understanding what was happening to her. "Sometimes it hits you like that afterward."

"After what, Damon? After finding you being attacked by a mysterious stranger in the lab? After finding out you have been drugged? Don't be ridiculous. Why should a few little incidents like that bother me? They sure don't seem to bother you. You have been sleeping like a log."

She was wound up tighter than a bed spring, Damon realized. He sat up slowly, pitching his voice to a low, soothing level. "It is okay, Elena. Calm down. Everything is going to be all right. You just need some rest. You are a little high-strung at the moment, but after you have had some sleep you will be fine."

"The hell I will," she snapped. "This is all your fault."

"I know."

"Don't you dare sit there and assume full responsibility for everything."

He blinked. "Elena, you just said it was all my fault and I agree."

She threw up her hands in outrage. "Don't try to humour me. I am not a child. We both know you would do it again given the same set of circumstances. It is your nature to do what you feel you have to do. You don't let anything get in your way, especially not a woman who..."

"A woman who what, Elena?" he asked curiously.

"A woman who loves you, damn it!"

Damon went very still, absorbing her words. He had never seen Elena like this. She was flushed with a heat that, under other conditions, he would have assumed was a sign of sexual arousal. Her eyes were glittering, brown pools of fierce, feminine energy. She was riding a wave of residual tension that burned like fire in her, feeding on her nerves.

She didn't know what she was saying.

"Elena, just listen to me," he said firmly. "This is what adrenaline does to you. You are a doctor. Surely you understand how stress…"

Without any warning except an enraged yelp, Elena exploded across the room. She launched herself across the bed, sprawling on top of Damon before he fully realized what was happening. The force of her impact pushed him back against the pillow. Her legs tangled with his and her nails dug into his shoulders as her eyes burned into his.

"Listen to me and listen good, you arrogant bastard. I should be mad at you. You have used me and manipulated me right from the start. You have even had the nerve to admit what you were doing while you did it You have given all the orders and made all the decisions. You have had the unmitigated gall to make love to me because you thought you could control me more effectively if you turned me into some sort of sexual slave."

"A sexual slave? I have never thought about using sex to control you, Elena."

Her nails tightened on his shoulders. He was going to have marks on his skin, Damon thought.

"Shut up. I'm doing the talking and I'm not finished with you yet. I have never met anyone as arrogant as you, Damon Salvatore, but things are going to change. Until now everything has gone your way, but this morning I'm going to have things my way."

"Elena, honey, you are upset. You need to clear your mind. You need to calm down."

"The only reason I'm in this condition is because of you. I'm going to blame you. So, you are going to do something about it."

"I will," he promised.

"Damn right, you are going to help me," she muttered as she slipped her hands up under his black T-shirt and flattened her palms on his chest. "I need to work off all this tension. That means I need a physical release. You know what? I'm going to use you to get it. It is about time I get to use you for something."

"Elena, calm down," he urged softly, realising at last what was happening. She didn't know what she was doing. He tried to clasp her wrist but she ignored him, yanked her hands free and went back to tug off his shirt.

"I'm not going to calm down, so you might as well save your breath. I figure I can either use you for a punching bag or a stud. Take your pick, but you'd better choose fast."

"If you won't calm down, then slow down," he ordered gently. She was squirming on him as she worked her way down his chest to pluck furiously at his belt buckle.

"I don't want to slow down and you better stop interrupting me. For once we are going to do something my way."

She unzipped his jeans so quickly Damon sucked in his breath. "Elena, be careful."

"Stop interrupting me." She wriggled further down his legs, tugging furiously at the jeans. She got them past his hips and then lifted her head, her eyes challenging him. "Well? Do you want me to use you for a punching bag or a stud?"

"For crying out loud, Elena, this is ridiculous." He didn't know whether to laugh or shake her until she gained a semblance of normal behaviour.

"Forget I gave you a choice. I have decided I will get more use out of you as a stud than a punching bag. Sex is what I want, not a gym workout." She grabbed the waistband of his briefs and stripped them down to where his jeans were caught just above his knees.

He felt his stiffening manhood fall into her waiting hands.

"Hang on a second, honey. If you want me to make love to you, just give me a minute and I will do it right."

"You don't have to worry about doing it right. We are not doing this your way. We are doing it the way I want it done. You don't have to say or do anything except perform on command. Close your mouth and concentrate on being useful. I'm in control at the moment."

Damon didn't realize what she intended until he felt her hair flowing around his thighs. Then her soft mouth found him in an overwhelmingly intimate caress. A shudder went through him.

"Oh, Christ."

Elena didn't respond. She was too busy exploring him with her tongue.

"Who's making the power play now?" He just barely had enough wits for one last sassy comment before he felt the edge of her teeth skim lightly over the most vulnerable place on his body and he nearly exploded in her mouth.

She had claimed she was doing this for her own pleasure. It was her own release she sought; a way to relieve the nervous tension and anxiety that was driving her. But Damon found himself enthralled by the sensual assault. He had never experienced anything like it in his life.

He had slept with different women all these years. He was always the one in control, even in the rare moments of sexual climax.

Except when he was with Elena.

She had already demonstrated that she could provoke him into sharing a wild, shimmering release with her. Now she was teaching him that she had the power to overwhelm him completely. She had the power to force his surrender. No woman had ever treated him like this.

No woman had ever wanted him this much.

Damon groaned as the tip of Elena's tongue circled him. He was torn between grabbing her and pinning her beneath him and a surprisingly strong impulse to simply tie back and enjoy the unfamiliar excitement of surrender. It was his nature to dominate, yet with Elena he was learning that there were other ways to find pleasure.

Elena had said she was going to use him to achieve her own gratification, but surely no woman could make such intoxicating love to a man unless she felt something more than lust.

Damon closed his eyes, twining his fingers into Elena's tousled hair. Driven by the spiralling desire that was rapidly threatening to overtake his senses, he lifted his hips, wanting more of her sweet, hot kisses. Elena answered the silent plea for more with a final butterfly caress, and then she was pulling away from him.

"No," Damon muttered, opening his eyes to discover her kneeling between his spread legs. "Don't stop. Not now." His momentary fascination with finding himself a victim of Elena's assertiveness faded quickly. She had aroused him too fully. He couldn't let her quit now. Damon started to reach for her.

"Don't you dare move," Elena ordered. "I have got you exactly as I want you. Stay put." She removed her robe, heedlessly tossing it aside.

Damon breamed deeply when he realized she was wearing nothing underneath. The taut peaks of her high breasts were dark against her bronze skin. He ached to take a gemlike nipple into his mourn. He lifted a hand, letting his fingers brush lightly across the tip of one soft breast.

But Elena ignored him. She was too busy shimmying out of her panties. His whole body was tight and heavy with his need. All his instincts urged him to pull her down beneath him so he could drive himself into her. He had had enough of this passive surrender bit. It was an interesting novelty, but now impatience was consuming him. His hand closed around Elena's thigh, his fingers sinking into her resilient, warm flesh.

"Take your hand off me," she hissed.

"Elena, what is the matter with you? You want me. You have said it yourself."

"I have had it with you taking control. I'm in charge here. Lie down and shut up."

She moved on top of him and Damon allowed himself to be pushed back into the pillows once more. She was all over him with a vengeance. Her fingers pushed through the hair on his chest, her lips were buried against his throat, her soft inner thighs clasped him tightly.

He stirred and groaned thickly when she took the condom from the nightstand and put it on him. When she lowered herself over his rigid shaft, he felt the heat of her femininity seconds before he felt the dampness. Damon thought he would go out of his mind.

She levered herself up, her hands planted solidly on his chest as if to pin him down while she took him. Then she slowly began to ease him into her velvety sheath. When he was fully inside her, he clenched his jaw, straining against the overload of sensation. She felt so warm, so wet, and so good.

"Elena…" he groaned. "Oh, god."

She sat back and began sliding up and down on him. He held her hips, guiding her, moving her in a smooth, sensual rhythm, fighting the urge to go off at the sight of her naked above him in the bright light of day.

Her nails were digging into his shoulders as she established a slow, surging rhythm that left her and Damon both shuddering. Damon opened his mouth when she leaned over him and sought his lips with her own. Her tongue slipped inside in an aggressive penetration that was an exciting reversal of the penetration lower down.

Damon tightened his arms around her, glorying in the soft, hot feel of her. He sensed she was losing her own self-control now, becoming swamped by the sizzling sensations she had sought to command. He knew how it felt. On the occasions when he had made love to her, it had always ended like that for him.

In the final analysis, there was no winner or loser, only a passionate bonding and shimmering climax that had to be shared together.

Elena cried out and her teeth sank into his earlobe when the coiled spring inside her finally released: The small convulsions squeezed him demandingly and Damon dimly heard his own muffled, exultant shout. His body surged deeply into hers one last time and then he was erupting inside her.

Elena clung to him as tightly as he clung to her and together they rode out the fabulous storm that tore through their bodies.

Together they slowly returned to the here and now.

Together they sank back into the rumpled sheets, then-legs entwined, their perspiration slick bodies gliding against each other.

Together.

Damon lay still for a long time, enjoying the feel of Elena in his arms. It was a while before she stirred, slithered off and curled up beside him. He turned his head to look at her and found her watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. She blinked sleepily and yawned like a cat.

"It is okay, honey," he said gently. "Go to sleep now."

"Now who is being bossy here?" Her eyes were closing as she nestled her head more comfortably into the pillow.

"Me. And you love it."

* * *

 **Another Delena chapter for my readers:) I hope you guys/gals will enjoy this chapter. What do you think about dominant Elena? I thought it was fun, LOL! Someone wanted to punish Elena. Will she be alright? Watch the space...  
**

 **Once again, thanks for all the support and wonderful comments. I really appreciate them. Please remember to check out all those amazing writers I have mentioned previously like scarlett2112, delenadreams,Salvatoreboys4ever,** **VitsAsh, Rachel3003, TheLittle MissVixen, DE92, morvamp etc.  
**


	25. Chapter 25

Elena awoke to find herself alone in her room. Judging from the position of the sun, she guessed it was almost noon. She probably hadn't had more than four hours of sleep, but it seemed to be sufficient. She felt rested and the frazzled feeling was definitely gone.

She forced herself to focus on the chain of events during the morning. _She told Damon she was in love with him._

Now what was going to happen between them?

She tossed the covers aside and padded into the bathroom for a shower. Damon hadn't made a single promise to her since the first time they had slept together. In fact, he hadn't once brought up the subject of what might happen once they finished this undercover stuff. For her part, she had deliberately avoided the issue, not wanting to look too pushy or needy. Now she had taken the first step and told him she was in love with him. Which meant the next move was him.

Elena finished her shower and put on her jeans and a fresh T-shirt. She was busy securing her hair into a no-nonsense twist when Damon materialized in the doorway.

As usual there had been no sound of the door opening, no footsteps to warn her, no knock. The door was simply closed one instant and the next he was in the room with her. Damon was obviously back to normal.

Elena met his eyes in the dressing table mirror and her hands stilled on top of her head. As memories of her early morning aggression returned she determinedly fought down the blush that threatened to turn her face a vivid pink.

"Are you cooking something? It smells good." She kept her voice bright and chatty and hurried to finish pinning her hair in place.

"I made us some lunch. Toasted cheese sandwiches and salad." He walked over to stand behind her, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.

It was Elena who looked away first, pretending to be searching for a hairpin. "Toasted cheese sandwiches sound good."

"I can make you something else if you prefer."

"You don't have to."

Damon leaned over and dropped a lingering kiss on the exposed nape of her neck. Elena shivered and her eyes flew back to meet his in the mirror.

"Shall we go down now?" Damon straightened, apparently satisfied with the tell-tale shiver he had induced in her. "I bet you must be starving."

"Thanks for the lunch."

He gave her a slow, sexy, intimate smile that raised the hairs on the back of her neck in an exciting way.

"Any time," he said.

She followed Damon to the kitchen and picked up the coffeepot. "Coffee. Good. I could use a cup."

He watched her carry the mug around to the other side of the counter and perch on one of the stools. He picked up the plates with the toasted sandwiches on them and carried them to the counter.

She picked up one of the sandwiches and took a large bite. "The mustard was a stroke of genius. Where did you learn to make these?"

Damon walked around the corner to sit down beside her. "My mother used to make them when I was a kid. My brother and I love them."

She took another bite of the sandwiches. "They are delicious. You can make them for me anytime."

He smiled as he watched her eat the sandwich. "It is a deal."

His phone rang just as they finished the last of the sandwiches. Damon took the call. Elena listened closely and understood that he was not happy with the news he was getting.

He finished speaking and ended the connection.

"That was Enzo. He spoke to the detective who was assigned to investigate the cat burglar last night."

"I gathered that much." She brushed crumbs from her fingers.

"The name of the guy we caught at the scene is Jason Gibbs. His lawyer got him out on bail about half an hour after they booked him. This morning he was found dead in his trailer. Overdose."

Her mouth went dry. "Oh, my God."

"He lived in a park about fifty miles from Gilbert & Company." Damon rested his forearms on the counter. "Apparently he was so happy about getting out of jail that he went straight home and shot himself full of some extra strong junk."

She watched his face. "You are thinking that is rather a convenient conclusion, aren't you?"

"I'm thinking it sounds like Maxfield's partner from start to finish. Whoever he is, knows I was going to search the lab last night. He used Jason Gibbs to poison me. Jason was the waiter who gave me the cocktail."

Elena's brows came together. "How are you feeling? Any sign of a hangover?"

"No. The Jewels seems to be gone from my system."

"How did you know it was The Jewels?"

Shadow moved in his eyes. "I had seen the effects of The Jewels on some teenagers. You only need a tiny dose to create all the symptoms of drunkenness and inhibition."

"What if someone has taken an overdose of The Jewels?" she asked.

"There aren't a lot of reported cases of overdose," Damon said. "The Jewels is damn expensive. It isn't easy to get a large supply in the underground clubs."

"But if Wes Maxfield's partner is using Jason Gibbs to do the dirty job, then Jason could easily have access to the drug."

"Good point," he conceded. "Congratulations. You really have the talent to be a private investigator."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Be serious, Damon."

He smiled slightly before his expression turned serious again. "If you are right, then someone probably has injected a large dose of The Jewels into Jason Gibbs."

"I have checked on the internet about The Jewels. It can cause fatal cardiac arrhythmias if someone has taken an overdose."

"That was how Jason Gibbs died." Damon absorbed that information.

Elena thought about it. "Do you think my father had an overdose of the drug?"

"It is possible," he said. "I'm seriously doubt that we are able to prove murder in any event, even if we exhumed the body."

"Because The Jewels probably wouldn't' show up in a toxicology report?"

"Right. Those scans are very limited." He paused. "And don't you forget that your father was cremated."

"Another dead end," she whispered.

"Technically, it is not a dead end."

"What do you mean?"

"At least I'm fairly certain now that Maxfield's partner is getting nervous now."

"I don't think I understand."

"He is fearful that the investigation is closing in on him. He wants to get rid of me."

"My goodness." She absorbed that information. "But why didn't Jason Gibbs kill you last night? Why did he poison you?"

"I think whoever behind this wants to find out how much I know about this whole thing," he said. "I will talk to Enzo again and see whether I can find out more about Jason Gibbs and his connection to Maxfield."

"Right," she said. "I can check with the security to find out how did he get inside the company."

A short silence fell between them.

"It was amazing you could still function last night, let alone handle Jason Gibbs. You were on the point of collapse," she said after a while.

"You got me out of there. Thanks, Elena."

She frowned. The last thing she wanted was his gratitude. She set her back teeth. "So, you owe me, right?"

He nodded seriously. "Right."

"Oh, goody. I can't wait to collect."

He surprised her with a fleeting expression of mischief. "I thought you already did. Bright and early this morning."

Elena felt the heat rising in her cheeks. She tried to brazen her way through the embarrassing little scene with a deliberately lofty smile. "I will admit you make a very interesting sex slave."

He chuckled. "Thank you. My only goal is to please."

"Please. I'm blushing."

"And you blush in all the best places."

His hands closed around her shoulders and he hauled her lightly to her feet. Her heart skipped a beat. He pulled her closer. Then he slanted his mouth over hers, taking his time with this kiss.

"You know, Elena," he said, when his mouth broke away from hers. "When this is over we really are going to have to talk about our relationship."

He vanished into the hallway before she could recover from the shock.

x x x

Later in the afternoon Elena sat with Isobel at one of the terrace tables outside the café at Gilbert & Company.

"I have heard about the burglar who sneaked into the lab yesterday," Isobel said. "What a horrible thing that must have been for you, coming across the crime scene the way you did. How is Damon? I heard he has injured himself."

Another lie, Elena thought.

"Just a sprained ankle," she murmured.

"I'm surprised that someone could sneak into the lab," Isobel said as she picked up her cup of coffee. "Our PR department runs routine employment background checks. Granted, they are fairly superficial but I'm sure the PR department would have picked up on a conviction and prison time."

"The R&D Lab is probably one of the most secured areas in the entire company," Elena said thoughtfully.

"You need to know the security codes to get into the lab."

"Who is responsible in giving out the security codes?" Elena asked, curious.

"Dick Peterson," Isobel said. "He has been head of security here at the company for as far as I know."

"I would like to talk to him."

Dick Peterson was in his mid-fifties, tall and stocky.

"Only the staffs working in the R&D Lab will have access to the security codes," Dick explained. "Of course, some of the staffs from the senior managerial level will have access."

"Can I have the list of all the member of the staff who have access to the R&D Lab?" Elena asked.

"Sure," Dick said. "I will get them for you."

"What are you looking for, Elena?" Isobel asked her.

"I don't know yet but I just want to be absolutely certain."

"What is it you want to verify?"

Dick returned with a list of the staff who had access to the R&D Lab before Elena could answer. "Only two new staffs were given access to the lab in the recent weeks. You are one of them, Miss Gilbert."

"The other will be Damon," Elena said.

"Yes."

"Do you know everyone on the list?" Elena asked Dick.

"Yes, I know everybody. I have been head of security here for almost twenty years."

It took them half an hour to go through the list of people who had access to the R&D Lab. As promised, Dick recognised them all.

"It is amazing how the R&D Lab has grown in recent years," Elena said.

"Your father was really into research of new drugs," Isobel explained. "About forty percent of the total operating budget of the company has been coming from the R&D Lab in the last five years."

Elena's brow raised. "This is unbelievable. I thought our income is coming from the sales of medications."

"About fifty percent of the income is from sales. Another ten percent appears to come from a mix of grants from some nutritional supplement manufacturers and research foundations from the university."

"Who is paying that kind of money to the R&D Lab?"

Isobel raised one shoulder in a mild shrug. "Your father was very good in promoting the business. Maybe he had managed to persuade some potential investors to spend some cash of the R&D Lab."

Elena shook her head. "No sane. I have worked in the medical field. I know how tough it is to get a grant to run a research study. We are talking billions here."

Isobel frowned. "Do you think there is something strange going on with the funding here?"

"Yes." Elena looked grim. "Can you find out more about the funding?"

"Sure," Isobel answered quickly. "I will ask Tom who is the head of the accountant to follow the money trail."

Elena looked at Dick. "Do you have the list of the people who attended the launch party yesterday?"

"Sure. All visitors have to sign in and sign out," Dick explained. "This is the rule we have been sticking with for a very long time."

"What about those caterers?" Elena asked.

"The PR department normally sends us a list of the number of people from the caterers." Dick checked his computer and pointed to the screen. "According to the list, there would be twenty-five people from the caterers helping with the drinks and food. There were about a hundred of guess yesterday including the reporters."

"Send me all those names," Elena said. "I also want a list of our staff members who were there in the launch party yesterday."

"No problem," Dick said.

Elena flashed him an approving smile and left the security office with Isobel.

The interior of the Gilbert & Company was a maze of white hallways and stairwells that connected multiple floors of offices and labs. The security office was located on the main entrance of the building.

Ahead in the hallway, Elena saw John and Meredith walking towards the direction of the R&D Lab.

"John and Meredith do make a striking item." Elena said.

Isobel's mouth fell open. "No kidding? John is sleeping with Meredith?"

Elena raised her brows. "You haven't heard?"

Isobel shook her head. "Never had a clue. A number of betting pools has been formed to pick the name of the lucky man Meredith Fell would deign to date first since she started working here but I have a feeling that Meredith would keep everyone guessing for a while."

"How long has Meredith worked for Gilbert & Company?" Elena asked.

"Her brother, Logan Fell is one of the board of directors," Isobel said. "He recommended her to your father a few years ago. I heard that her résumé has a number of glowing degrees and achievements in the field of pharmacology. Your father was impressed."

"I assume Meredith has a lot to do with attracting the large amount of funding into the R&D Lab?"

"Yes, according to your father, Meredith is brilliant," Isobel said. "The R&D Lab expanded its size within a few months after Meredith joined the company."

There was short silence before Isobel continued.

"I guess John and Meredith do make a perfect team," she said.

Elena's brows rose. "Don't tell me there is a rule against fraternizing with the staff members in the company."

"No, no," Isobel said. "I just have a feeling that John doesn't come across as the type of man for Meredith."

Damon's words came back to her…

 _I think they don't want anyone to know about their relationship._

 _Meredith is a smart and beautiful woman. Why would she stick with John when she could have other better choices?_

 _It strikes me that Meredith Fell is not that kind of woman who would stick devotedly by a man she doesn't find useful._

Elena narrowed her eyes. "I take it you find Meredith is an ambitious woman."

"Well, yeah." Isobel thought about it. "John is sort of a science geek. Not the ambitious type."

Elena pondered that. "Workplace relationship can be unpredictable."

"You are right. Things can get complicated."

Elena arched her brows. "That's why you and my father didn't take the relationship a step further?"

Isobel reddened. "Your father was my boss."

"But you like him a lot," Elena chided. "I can see the tenderness in your eyes every time you talk about my father."

Isobel blinked. "Am I that obvious?"

"You have fallen for my father, haven't you?"

There was a brief pause.

"Yes," Isobel finally admitted. "I was attracted to your father the moment I met him."

Elena nodded. "I got that impression."

Isobel sighed. "Your father gave me some talk about his no-relationship policy."

Elena snorted. "Lame commitment excuses."

"No, I don't think so," Isobel continued. "I think your father had never gotten over your mother, Elena."

"Give me a break," Elena scowled. "He had affairs with dozens of women after he divorced my mother. If he really cared about her, he should have gone after her again."

"Maybe he was afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Afraid that your mother would reject him."

There was another silence.

"Well, I better leave you to your work," Isobel said eventually. "I will contact Tom from the accounts department to follow up on the funding."

Elena watched her go and wondered if things would be different if Grayson and Isobel were seeing each other.

Workplace romances were so highly volatile, she reflected, letting herself into her office. They were unpredictable, destabilizing and potentially painful. And she had seen some examples of workplace romances in the hospital. Some worked but some turned out to be disasters.

She thought about the problem of workplace romances for a while. They were always high-risk affairs. People got hurt. People got mad.

Some people went looking for revenge.

 **Thank you for the support and wonderful reviews so far. I hope my readers will enjoy this chapter. I know my writing isn't good but because of your support, I promise I will keep on writing Delena stories:) Once again, thank you so much! Remember to check out on those amazing writers I have mentioned previously - scarlett2112, Salvatoreboys4ever, delenadreams, Rachel3003, VitsAsh etc. There is a new writer elelooch - her story "Coincidences" is pretty good too.  
**


	26. Chapter 26

"What do you mean you were drugged?" Enzo demanded. "What the hell do you think you were doing in the lab last night?"

"I'm fairly certain there is something going on in the R&D Lab," Damon said. "Thought I would sneak in and have a look."

"You should notify me before hand."

"I'm your top undercover agent, remember?"

"Don't give me this crap, Damon," Enzo warned. "Do I need to remind you that if someone caught you sneaking into the R&D Lab your identity would be exposed? Remember you are dealing a very importing investigation here."

"An investigation in which my primary objective is to find out Wes Maxfield's partner. "

"You are right. The U.S. attorney has his eye on this case, and that means there is no room for error."

"Is there ever room for error in any of your cases?"

"No. But this time, there is particularly no room for error. It is the way I classify things: basically no room for error, no room for error, and particularly no room for error."

"That is the reason why you have chosen me to do the job."

Enzo grunted. "You are right. But I'm warning you, Damon…"

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing." Damon reassured him.

"But you were drugged."

Damon winced. "A small accident happened, unfortunately."

"Fill me in everything."

"Jason Gibbs drugged my drink at the launch party. Using The Jewels."

"But he is dead now," Enzo grumbled. "Why didn't you tell me last night?"

"I was drugged, remember?"

Enzo paused. He responded very carefully. "Alright, Damon. You have never failed me. I trust your instinct but DEA doesn't want to lose another agent like Ivan Stone."

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing," Damon said sharply. "Now tell me what have you got?"

"We have run a check on Jason Gibbs. Nothing striking. Dropped out of high school because he failed all of the subjects."

"All of the subjects?"

"Yeah. Comments from the teachers were never a material in the academics. All classmates think that he was a nerd."

"Jobs?"

"Mainly part-time jobs since he dropped out of school last year."

"Families?"

"Both parents divorced when he was ten. He stayed with his grandmother but she died when he turned seventeen. Was in foster care until he was eighteen."

"Girlfriend?"

"Nope. His colleagues think that he was a lone-ranger."

"I don't believe a lone-ranger like Jason Gibbs could get his hands on The Jewels," Damon said as he tried to process the information. "It keeps coming back to the drug connection. It makes me think that at least part of the puzzle has something to do with Grayson Gilbert."

Enzo was silent for a beat. "Here we go."

"What did you find?"

"It said that Jason Gibbs was one of the participants in an experiment trial conducted at Gilbert & Company."

"When was that?"

"Give me a second…"

Enzo went back to the files, reading aloud.

"…Fifty healthy volunteers were recruited to participate in a trial conducted at Gilbert & Company last year. The trial was on a nutritional supplement which enhances brain function…"

"Enhance brain function?"

"Yes, a supplement which helps the brain to function more effectively. The brain is a complex organ. Think about it. Your brain is always "on." It takes care of your thoughts and movements, your breathing and heartbeat, your senses — it works hard 24/7, even while you're asleep. This means your brain requires a constant supply of fuel. According to Dr Meredith Fell…"

The name got his attention. "Meredith Fell?"

"Yeah. Dr Meredith Fell was in charge of the trial…"

It was you, Damon thought. It was you behind all these.

"Meredith Fell is Maxfield's partner," Damon said.

"What?" Enzo sounded surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I'm not arguing with you," Enzo said. "But if you are right about Meredith Fell…"

"I'm right. This is personal. It has been from the start."

"But why?"

"Listen, Meredith is out for revenge. She is obsessed, and she is panicking. She will be at the R&D Lab. It is her world—her creation."

"Okay, we are on our way."

"I need to find Elena first before Meredith grabs her."

Snatching up his keys, he slammed his feet into the nearest pair of shoes and exited the door of the mansion, not even flinching when it slammed violently behind him.

x x x

The R&D Lab was dark. It was almost seven pm and everyone had left. Elena thought about turning on a light and decided that would be the height of stupidity. Summoning up a mental image of the approximate location of Meredith's office, she made her way carefully across the lab.

Her memory turned out to be reasonably accurate. She found the office and punched in the code. The handle turned easily.

Elena took a deep breath and stepped inside the office. She took out a small torchlight from her pocket and she surveyed the room, getting down to business. There was an oversized mahogany desk, two walls of built-in bookshelves, a file cabinet in the southwest corner of the room (which she checked—locked), and two leather armchairs centred by a coffee table.

There was nothing suspicion in the office but she was unable to shake off the certainty that had settled on her since this afternoon. Meredith must be hiding something, she thought.

Then something underneath the desk caught her attention.

It looked like an ordinary socket but why did a desk have an electric socket underneath it?

Elena angled the beam of light towards the socket. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized that she was looking at a switch.

She reached for the switch. There was an oiled, mechanical sound behind the built-in shelving and suddenly half the wall swung silently inward. A yawning black tunnel stretched out in front of her. She flashed the light into the tunnel. The interior lay in darkness, but light from the torchlight glanced off what appeared to be a lot of chemistry apparatus.

Her blood turned to ice in her veins.

An underground lab. This must be the lab that produced The Jewels.

Her phone rang, startling Elena enough for her to drop the torchlight. _Dammit, I'm on the edge._ Cursing, she answered the phone.

"Where are you?" It was Damon. His voice was cold and dangerous. "In your office?"

She frowned. "Why?"

"Get out of there. I don't want you to be alone, not even in your office. I'm on my way."

A chill slithered down her spine. "What's going on?"

"I found out who is Maxfield's partner."

"I'm actually in the R&D Lab," she said quickly. "I think I know who the person is as well…"

The overhead lights were switched on, interrupting her. The sudden brilliance made her blink rapidly while her eyes adjusted. Then she saw Meredith Fell.

She had a gun in her hand.

"End the call and give me the phone," Meredith said.

Elena ended the call and handed her the phone. Meredith tossed it on the floor and stepped on it hard.

"You figured it out, didn't you?" Meredith said.

"That you were the one who brewed up The Jewels for Wes Maxfield all these years?" Elena said. "Yes. It was The Jewels that brought in all those funds to the R&D Lab."

"I saw you and Isobel this afternoon. You talked to security first and then Isobel went to the accounts department. I got a bad feeling. Two hours ago Tom sent me an email asking about the funding. I know something is not right."

"I didn't put it together until what happened at the launch party yesterday and started asking the right questions. Tell me, how in the world did you end up as Maxfield's drug supplier? You didn't move in his circles."

"Your father was the one who approached me," Meredith said. "He knew I could make some very special stuff, and he wanted the cash to grow the company."

Elena took in a deep breath. Her father was involved in the manufacture of The Jewels. Damon was right all the way.

Meredith snorted. "Your father craved what every businessmen craves, namely unlimited cash to expand his company. And he was prepared to go to any lengths to reach his goals."

"And you helped him by giving him the drugs?" Elena asked. She couldn't think of anything else to do except keep talking. Just kept stalling and she might be able to figure a way out of this. "Why would you do that? Wait, don't tell me. You thought you were in love with him, didn't you? You wanted to make my father pay attention to you."

"Shut up," Meredith hissed. "You don't know what you are talking about. Your father needed me. It was my drugs that made him a rock star here in San Francisco."

"You were sleeping with my father."

"Stop saying that. You don't know how it was between us."

"It was you who killed my father."

"Yes," Meredith said.

"Why?"

"I made your father one of the richest men in the country, and how did he repay me? He betrayed me."

"He betrayed you?"

"I found out he was planning on a merger with Mikael Mikaelson." Sudden rage infused Meredith's voice. "He decided he didn't want to carry on with the production of The Jewels."

Her father must have realised he couldn't cover up his illegal business for long, Elena thought. That would explain why he wanted to sell and get out while the getting was good.

"And he also ended his affair with you."

"I didn't understand why he ended our affair. After all, I was several years younger and a lot prettier than your mother. In addition, I'm very, very smart and your father and I were both dedicated to the same kind of research. We made a perfect team. But why didn't he want me?"

"Because he didn't love you. He was just using you."

"Stop saying that!" Meredith's expression tightened with fury. "Stop saying that!"

Elena glanced around the lab, at the test tubes, beakers and boiling flasks everywhere. Maybe she could grab one to use as a weapon and…risk being shot by the woman who had a big-time axe to grind with her, a woman who undoubtedly would be all too happy to have another excuse to pull the trigger.

Not the best plan.

More stalling. "You moved on after my father, didn't you?" Elena said. "You found John. What happened? Did he turn on you, too?"

"You have got it all wrong," Meredith said. "I never loved John Gilbert. I'm using him to gain control of Gilbert & Company."

"But to your surprise, after you went to all the trouble to seduce John and get rid of my father, my father had left all his controlling shares to me."

"You can blame your father for that. I have to get rid of you in order to control Gilbert & Company."

"You used Wes Maxfield to kill me."

"He was willing to help me because I made him believe I would continue to supply the drugs to him. But he was stupid. He thought your father walked out on him." Meredith smiled tightly. "I started the rumours of your father wanting to stop working with him. He freaked out. When I approached him about supplying him the drugs, he was willing to form a partnership with me."

"Unfortunately, he hired the wrong man to kill me."

"I realised that. I freaked out when I found out Maxfield didn't manage to kill you. But when the news of you being kidnapped came out, I thought maybe everything was okay. You might still end up dead."

"But I didn't."

Meredith smiled sourly. "You turned up alive. Saved by the FBI. Unbelievable," she said, shaking her head at the wonder of it. "Who would have guessed that your splendour extended to rising from the dead?"

"Why didn't Wes implicate you?"

"Because he didn't know I was his partner. I approached him using a chat group. He was so stupid. He was so desperate to get his hands on The Jewels that he didn't know he was being used. He couldn't tell the FBI much even when he was arrested."

"You used him all along, didn't you? You convinced him to murder me and then he could gain control of Gilbert & Company, didn't you? Wes Maxfield thought he could have unlimited supply of the drugs if he managed to control the company."

Meredith smiled grimly. "You did figure out, didn't you?"

"You also tried to kill Damon."

"I couldn't let you marry him," Meredith said. "I don't have a choice."

"You are scared that if I marry him and then die, he will own all my shares."

"Yes," Meredith said, her voice very tight. "It was dump of me. I should have known something was wrong when I first met him. The plan initially was to drug him and then Jason would make it look like a robbery gone bad."

"But you had never expected Damon to sneak into the R&D Lab."

"I had to change the plan to fit the changing circumstances. I had to find out how much he knows about me."

"But why killed Jason Gibbs?"

"Everything was going according to plan. Then you turned up. It was your fault," Meredith said, suddenly violently furious. "You ruined my plan. You ruined everything. You must pay for causing me so much trouble."

"You will never get away with it, not any of it. Damon will find you if you kill me."

"Oh, getting away with it has ceased to matter. My goal was to have you dead, and I'm halfway there. Unfortunately, I don't have time today to take my revenge on Damon, although, perhaps, at some point in the future, I may get an opportunity to do so." She aimed the pistol down at Elena. "Any final words?"

"I know why my father would never love you."

Meredith narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Because you are a monster."

With her free hand, Meredith backhanded Elena across the face.

Caught off guard, Elena fell back towards a bench with multiple racks of test tubes and beakers. There wasn't going to be a better chance, Elena thought. She grabbed two beakers out of the rack and flung one of them directly at Meredith. Meredith yelped in panic and managed to dodge the missile. The beaker shattered when it struck the floor.

"My lab," Meredith screamed. "Damn you!"

She started to swing the gun towards Elena. Elena threw another beaker at her.

The gun roared. Elena felt an icy sensation on her left thigh but she was already in motion, the boiling flask gripped in her hand as she swung it at Meredith's head.

Meredith automatically put up an arm. She managed to deflect some of the force of the blow. But the impact, the breaking glass and the shock of the attack sent her reeling backward into the lab. She lost her balance, and went down hard on her rear. The gun fell to the floor. Elena went for it and grabbed the gun with both hands. She knew she had to get out of this underground lab and call for help.

A dark figure blotted out the light in the doorway.

"Elena," Damon said.

A glorious sense of relief flooded through her. She lurched into his outstretched arms.

"Knew you would come," she whispered.

Behind her, Meredith screamed in raw rage. Elena managed to turn her head.

Meredith rushed towards the door, a huge chunk of glass clutched in her hands.

"Shit. She has gone crazy." Damon pulled Elena out of the doorway, back into the office.

Then a shot rang out. Meredith crumpled to the ground, her right leg giving out from under her.

Enzo and a few agents bulletproof vests stormed into Meredith's office, gun drawn.

"Drop your weapon," Enzo demanded.

Meredith dropped the glass. "It can't end like this!" She was weeping. "It shouldn't end like this!"

Elena touched Damon's hand. "Is it over now?"

"It is over," Damon said. "Hell, you are bleeding."

She looked down and saw that the denim on her left leg was soaked with blood.

"Oh," she said.

Damon scooped her up and put her down on the desk. He clamped a hand over the bleeding wound and pressed down hard.

"Hurts," she said.

Damon ignored her complaint. He pressed harder. "We need a medic here," he said in his cop's voice.

"It is on the way," one of the agents said.

"Is she okay?" Enzo asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," Elena said. "Just hurt."

Damon picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the lab. It felt wonderful.

She heard the sound of an approaching ambulance. "Not to play the needy fiancée card or anything, but do you think you can come with me to the hospital?"

He reached up and stroked her cheek. "If you need me, I won't leave your side. I promise."

* * *

 **What do you guys/gals think? It took me a few days to write this chapter. Hopefully you guys/gals will like it. Meredith turned out to be the boss. Did you guys/gals expect it? I know some of you think it could be Isobel but I didn't want Isobel to be the 'badass' this time:) Once again, thank you for all the support and wonderful comments. I really appreciate it.**

 **Check out Rachel3003 first Delena story "Healing You" - she is an amazing friend and trust me, for such a young age, I think she has done a pretty good job in writing that story. I'm glad she didn't think I'm too old to be her friend, LOL!**

 **And make sure you guys/gals check out the other amazing writers in this Delena fanfiction website - delenadreams, scarlett2112, Salvatoreboys4ever, TheLittle MissVixen, VitsAsh, morvamp, DE92, jazzywriter22 etc. Unfortunately some of them aren't writing/updating anymore which make me kind of sad because they are talented in their writing. For those of you guys/gals who are still writing, keep up your good work:)**


	27. Chapter 27

Two days later they gathered in Elena's living room. A cheerful fire blazed. The hearth tiles glowed in all their splendour.

Elena lounged in one of the recliners, feet stretched out towards the flames. She had bandages on her leg and she still felt wan and washed out after she came out of surgery yesterday. A few stitches and a bandage were all she had to show for her close call. She was feeling much better, all things considered.

Damon occupied the other recliner. Isobel and Enzo sat side by side on the sofa. Everyone had a cup of tea that Jack had made.

The official story had been put together by the DEA and FBI. It was simple and reasonably straightforward: While employed at Gilbert & Company, Dr Meredith Fell had engaged in the production of some very dangerous experimental medications. She was also suspected of killing Grayson Gilbert, presumably because Grayson had stumbled onto the scheme.

Damon Salvatore, DEA agent had been sent out to gather evidence. Elena Gilbert, the new CEO of Gilbert & Company, had assisted in the investigation.

Fearful that the investigation was closing in on her, Meredith kidnapped Elena with the goal of exchanging her for an airline ticket and guaranteed safe passage out of the country. The DEA had staged a rescue operation.

"Think the public will buy that story?" Elena asked, watching Damon turning off the television.

"Sure. It is the easiest way to clean up the mess."

She wrinkled her nose. "Our stocks were down three points at closing today."

"The inevitable happened," Isobel said, trying to sound both matter-of-fact and encouraging. "We have to close down for the entire week, but we will make it up later. The PR department is already working on ways of dealing this disaster. We will have fund raising for the local hospitals and schools. We can even try sponsoring some charity events like marathon or cycling. I believe all these measures will help to rebuild the image of Gilbert & Company."

Elena smiled at her. "You always know what is best for the company."

"We will survive," Isobel reassured her. "Gilbert & Company had been through hard times. But we managed to survive. And we will on this occasion, too."

"It is going to be tough to keep Gilbert & Company in operation," Enzo said. "The shares won't worth much at the moment but you will still get quite a lot of if you sell them now. But Elena said she doesn't want to be responsible for the entire staff being thrown out of work."

"I can't let the entire staff being thrown out of work," Elena said. "They need the job and the money."

"If the public is aware that Grayson was connected to Wes Maxfield, it would be over for Gilbert & Company," Damon said. "Hopefully the public will buy that story."

Elena looked at Damon. "You still haven't explained how you and Enzo realised Meredith was behind all these."

"Meredith is a smart woman. When I first met her, she strikes me as someone who is very driven," Damon said. "She was good at when it came to dazzling her victims with her charisma and charm."

"You mean she tried to seduce you," Elena said dryly.

"She knows what she wants. She was a star in her class and she has been fascinated with drugs since she was in high school. She was set out to get to the top when she worked for your father," Damon said. "Your father found out her skills and approached her, it was a real thrill for her."

"All went well for a while until my father decided he didn't want to carry his dealings with Maxfield," Elena said.

"He probably had heard a lot of rumours that the DEA was watching Maxfield," Enzo said.

"That would explain the merger with Mikael Mikaelson," Elena said. "He was worried that Gilbert & Company might be in danger of imploding if DEA found out about his dealings with Maxfield."

"Meredith was furious when she found out Grayson decided to end the affair and kill the production of The Jewels," Isobel said.

"So, she seduced John and got rid of Grayson," Damon said. "She thought when Grayson died the control of Gilbert & Company would go to John."

"But it didn't happen that way," Isobel pointed out. "Grayson left everything to his daughter. Elena now owns the controlling interest in Gilbert & Company."

"Yes, that was a shock to her," Damon said. "Then she used Wes Maxfield to kill Elena."

"Unfortunately, Maxfield failed her on that occasion," Enzo said.

"Then she tried to manipulate John to persuade Elena to give up her shares," Isobel said.

"But I didn't," Elena said firmly.

"And then I turned up," Damon said.

"She was worried that if I married Damon, he would gain control of my shares even if she managed to get rid of me," Elena said. "So, she set out to kill Damon."

"It was her biggest mistake by asking Jason Gibbs to kill Damon," Enzo said. "Damon asked me to run a background check on him. It turned out he was one of the participants in one of Meredith's trial."

"Jason Gibbs was obsessed with her," Damon said. "We found Jason's diary in his trailer. He was a fool, but he had one great attribute. He was blindly devoted to Meredith. She took advantage of his obsession with her."

"If he was so devoted to Meredith, why did she kill him?" Isobel asked.

"She had a good cause to be worried," Elena said. "Jason was arrested and she could no longer depend on that devotion. Sooner or later, he would say something to implicate her."

Isobel sighed. "Poor guy. He fell for the wrong woman."

"She fell for the wrong man, too," Elena said flatly. "My father used her. He had never loved her."

There was a short, heavy silence.

Isobel looked at Elena. "I know you are angry with your father," she said quietly. "Your father did make a big mistake. But I know he really cared about you."

There was another brief silence.

"I know," Elena murmured.

Damon threw Enzo a look, needing help. _Change the subject. Fast._

Enzo stared back cluelessly. _Why?_

Damon glared. _Just do it._

Enzo cleared his throat. "How is John Gilbert?"

"He came to see me this morning," Elena said. "He is still in shock, I think."

Damon snorted. "Mostly at the realization that Meredith was using him to gain control of Gilbert & Company."

"John really likes her," Elena said. "I think he even planned to marry her."

"He swore he had no idea about what Grayson and Meredith were doing at the underground lab," Isobel said. "I don't think anyone is aware there is an underground lab inside the R&D Lab, apart from Grayson and Meredith."

"Logan Fell had issued a statement this afternoon that the whole family is stunned by the news that her sister is connected to Wes Maxfield," Enzo said. "But the public may not have the same opinion."

"Does the DEA suspect Logan Fell?" Elena asked.

"We are running a check on the entire Fell family," Damon said. 'So far they look clean. But it doesn't mean we aren't watching them."

Isobel looked at Elena and Damon. "What happens now?"

"John made it clear that he won't force me to give up my shares," Elena said. "He is happy for me to in charge of Gilbert & Company."

Isobel looked relieved. "If anyone can salvage the company, it would be you."

"No," Elena said. "I'm going to give my shares to you, Isobel. Those shares are your problem now."

x x x

Elena stood near the window and watched the taillights of Isobel's car disappear down the drive. Damon leaned against the nearby wall. Enzo had left half an hour ago. Jack had disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Damon asked after a while.

"I have my own plans," Elena said. "I'm never interested in business. I love being a doctor and I miss being a doctor."

"Why Isobel?"

"Because she is good." Elena smiled. "She reminds me of my father. If anyone can salvage the company, she is probably that person. She has worked long enough with my father to have picked up a good deal of managing Gilbert & Company."

"What about John?"

"John has worked very hard all these years," Elena said. "He has done a lot for the manufacturing plants but in order to salvage the company you need a strategist."

"Someone like Isobel."

"I know I can count on her to revive the company."

 _You can count on me for anything,_ he said silently.

There was a short, stark silence.

Elena was beginning to get nervous. For the last two days, they had managed to talk about everything except their relationship. Now the investigation was over. What would happen to them?

She tried to look casual. "So, what is going to happen next?"

"Enzo talked to me about my next assignment."

Elena blinked in surprise. "Your next assignment?" Her heart sank. So soon. Sure, she had known the investigation was over, but she hadn't realized he had to leave so soon. "When do you begin your next assignment? I assume you at least get some time off, right?"

Damon shook his head. "Not much. I plan to go to Mystic Falls to spend a few days with my family, and when I come back Enzo wants me to start getting up to speed on the next assignment."

 _What about us?_

Elena caught the words just before they spilled out of her mouth. Damon's expression was unreadable. Perhaps, despite all the sweet words and the really, really fantastic sex, she had been wrong to think that their relationship had meant something.

Damon hadn't made a single promise to her. In fact, he hadn't once brought up the subject of what might happen once the investigation was over. For her part, she had deliberately avoided the issue, not wanting to look too pushy or needy. Besides, she had figured, she was the one who had taken the first step and told him that she was in love with him. Which meant the next move was his.

He said he wanted to talk about their relationship when the investigation was over. And now he seemed to be making that move. But backwards. Right out of her door.

Still, she wasn't ready to give up just yet. She kept her cool, resolved to hear whatever it was Damon had to say. Assuming he had something to say.

"What kind of assignment is it?" she asked. There—she had even managed to pull off sounding casual.

He shifted uneasily. Not a good sign.

"I could choose either party drugs or cocaine," he said.

 _You could choose neither,_ she thought.

But she didn't say it.

Instead, she decided to try a different tactic. The hell with beating around the bush. "So where does that leave us?"

He was silent for couple of heart beats.

"Where do you think that leaves us?" he asked.

She stared at him. He stared right back at her. Undoubtedly the second longest amount of time they had ever gone without talking.

Understanding hit her. Damon only wanted sex from her. Nothing else. Ah, she got it. She was a big girl. She wouldn't yell, she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't beg him to stay. But she needed him to leave.

Her eyes stung at the thought.

Now. She needed him to leave now.

"We are both adults, Damon. The investigation was over and now we are back in the real world. You have got your job and I have my own life."

He stepped towards her. "So that's it?"

She cocked her head. "Well, what else can I say?"

Damon studied her for a long moment. "No, I guess not."

A silence fell between them.

"I think, all things considered, that it is best if you go now." Elena forced herself to meet his eyes, and then had to look away before he could read too much in her own. 'I can look after myself from now."

Damon nodded. "Yeah, I think so, too." He paused. "But before I go, there is something I need to do."

Elena looked baffled. "Do what?"

"This." Damon grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her.

His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was both rough and tender, his arms drawing her tightly against him.

Well, then.

She forgot about everything. Except being in his arms. Being kissed by Damon.

By the time he freed her lips and moved his mouth to her ear, she was hot and cold, breathless and a little shaky. She clutched him, savouring his scent and the hard feel of his unyielding body. When she kissed the warm skin of his throat, he exhaled deeply. It could have been a sigh of pleasure or surrender or exultation. She could not be sure. But his breathing was harsher now.

He used one finger to raise her chin. His mouth came back down on hers in another intense kiss. She could feel the heat of the fire that smouldered just beneath the surface.

He shuddered, took a deep breath and held her slightly away from him.

"Don't tell me you didn't see this coming," he said, his voice rough and edgy. "Because I sure did. I told you when this is over we really are going to have to talk about our relationship." He gripped her shoulders determinedly. "I should have told you this earlier, Elena. Now that I have got my chance, you're going to hear it whether you like it or not. You came into my life and messed the whole thing up and now I'm screwed. Because I'm in love with you."

Elena smiled, her eyes misty, as she touched his cheek. "I love you, too."

They kissed again and when he at last raised his head, the blue-grey eyes she loved speared into hers. "Elena, I was lousy in relationship before, and I may still be lousy at it. But I don't want to spend the rest of my days wondering about what might have been with you. With us. I for damn sure don't want to spend another night without you. I already formed the habit of you. I want you in my bed and under me every night. Even if it means tying you up with those hankies and hauling you off like I did before."

She laughed. "What if I want you under me?"

He grinned, swept his thumb across her lower lip, and just before kissing it, whispered, "Still mouthy."

* * *

 **I always like happy ending for Delena:) I hope my readers are the same too. Writing this story is definitely very challenging but I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it. Damon may not be the nicest guy in this story but I really like his character - it always make me laugh when I write about him, LOL! Maybe I will make Damon Mr Nice Guy in my next story, ha! Once again, I really appreciate the support and wonderful reviews from my readers. Thank you!  
**

 **Please check out the amazing DE writers in this website - scarlett2112, Salvatoreboys4ever, delenadreams, Rachel3003, MovingOnIsNeverEasy, Mariah April May, VitsAsh etc. I'm so glad to know them through this fanfiction website:)**


	28. Epilogue

_Six months later…_

"About time you get married, Damon." John glanced across the top of the crowd to where Elena stood chatting with Isobel. "I like her."

"Glad to hear it." Damon followed John's gaze. "I like her, too." He felt a curious warmth infuse him. He was slowly growing accustomed to this sensation of happiness and satisfaction, he realized. He would never take it for granted, but he had reached the point where he could trust the feeling. With Elena by his side, it would last.

The Gilbert & Company charity picnic was a success. The smell of broiled salmon and roasted corn on the cob wafted across the crowded park. Pennants snapped from the colourful tents. Children dashed back and forth. Most were playing with samples of the newest product line from one of the sponsoring toy companies: miniature instant-glow vehicles that looked as if they had been designed on another planet.

On a stage decorated with hundreds of brightly lit Gilbert & Company products, musicians dressed in jeans and boots pounded out lively country music.

"Isobel has done a good job, hasn't she" John said. "It is a great party."

"She is a brilliant strategist. The company has done so well in the past six months," Damon said with a chuckle. "I should have asked Elena to keep those shares. They worth a fortune now."

John glared at him. "Isobel has worked really hard to revive the company. She is not doing it for the money. She is not a fortune-hunter."

Amusement gleamed in Damon's eyes. "You like her."

John blinked. "What?"

Damon grinned. "I could see the sparks flickering in your eyes when you talk about Isobel. You like her."

"That's not true," John scowled. "We are colleagues."

Damon raised his brows. "Don't tell me you are against fraternizing with work colleagues."

John was aghast. "Of course not!"

Damon smiled. "Then go after her."

John blinked again. "Are you serious?"

Slapping him on the shoulder, Damon said, "Never been more serious in my life. She is your type."

John raised his brows. "My type?"

Damon nodded and grinned. "Yeah, definitely your type."

Elena and Isobel wandered over. Elena had two paper cups in his hands, one of which she offered to Damon.

"Thanks." Damon took the cup. "Great party, Isobel. Wouldn't have missed it for the world."

"My father would have been pleased," Elena said. "I was right to give all those shares to you, Isobel."

Isobel made a face. "John has decided to stick with the manufacturing aspect and you rather become a doctor than to be a CEO. What choice do I have? Someone's got to take charge."

Elena laughed. "I can't think of anyone who can do that better than you."

Damon grinned. "I agree."

Isobel looked at Elena. "I'm not about to let you walk away from your inheritance, young woman. I have decided to put your share of your inheritance into a trust for any children you might have in the future."

"You don't have to do it," Elena said. "I'm happy with what I have and what I do at the moment."

"But you deserve your share of your inheritance," John said. "Your father would want you to accept it."

Damon looked thoughtful. "One way to handle it, I guess."

Elena raised her brows "You think this is a good idea, too?"

"At least you don't have to worry your boyfriend will marry you for your inheritance." Damon winked at her. "Although I don't really care whether I can get my hands on a chunk of your family business."

"I don't want you to feel pressured, Elena," Isobel elaborated firmly. "But John is right. You are a Gilbert. You deserve your share of your inheritance. However, we won't groom you to take over the business. You don't have to give up being a doctor if you don't want to."

"We won't stand in the way of your career, of course," John said smoothly.

"Being a doctor is great," Isobel added. "Your father would have been real proud of you."

Elena smiled blandly. "I can't tell you what it means to me to have the full support of my family in this matter."

"Hey, that's what family is for," John assured her.

"I was thinking, maybe we could have dinner together to celebrate after the party is over." Damon gave everyone in the small group a smile. "Maybe try that new Italian place near Elena's place? Invest in a bottle of bubbly? On me, naturally."

"That sounds like a great idea," Elena said.

John looked at Isobel. "Well? What do you think, Isobel?" He held his breath.

An acute silence fell. Damon and Elena turned to stare at John. Then, without a word, they all swivelled back to Isobel.

"Dinner sounds like a good idea," Isobel said eventually. Then she glanced at her watch. "I have got to run. Have to check on things before the announcement on the fund we have raised."

"I will give you a hand, Isobel," John said quickly.

Isobel smiled at him. "Thanks, John. It is nice of you to help out."

"It is my pleasure, Isobel."

Damon and Elena could almost see the sparks flickering between the pair. Instant attraction in action.

They watched John and Isobel hurried away, a bundle of sparkling energy and enthusiasm. Elena watched them go and smiled at Damon.

"So, John and Isobel, huh?" she said. "Who would have guessed it?"

Damon winked at her. "I think they will get along great by the end of the evening."

She thought about how close together John and Isobel had been walking when they had gone to the podium a short while earlier. They hadn't been holding hands, but there had been a sense of intimacy that seemed new in their relationship.

"Isobel is changing. Moving forward, I think," she said as she allowed Damon to take her arm and steer her towards one of the trees. "She is not only focusing on the company. That's a big step."

"Yeah. One must always follow your heart," he said. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small, dark red velvet box and opening it, held it out to her.

Sunlight danced off the enormous diamond and shone in her eyes as he watched her. He took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger, all while she simply stared up at him, with a bemused smiled on her lovely face.

"I finally figured it out."

"What?" she asked, glancing down at the beautiful promise glittering on her hand.

"That all I need is you. If I have you, I have everything. Without you, there is nothing."

Happiness shimmered through her. "Oh, Damon…"

"Marry me, Elena. Make a family with me."

"Yes!" she shouted the single word, and then laughed in delight. "Yes, I will marry you and I swear, I will love you forever."

He kissed her hard and fast, then drew back and grinned at her. Elena threw her arms around his neck and hung on for all she was worth as he swung her into a dizzying circle. The world rushed by, a blur of colour and sound, but in the centre of it all, they were together.

As they were meant to be.

 _THE END_

* * *

 **"Kiss me or kill me" has come to an end. Sorry there are no Delena babies but at least there is a proposal:) I hope my readers have thoroughly enjoyed reading this story like I do. I know this story may not be my best DE story but I promise I will try harder in the future. Thank you so much for all the support and kind words. I really appreciate them.**

 **Continue to watch the space...there will be more Delena stories on the way:) I'm going away for a while but I promise there will be a new DE story when I'm back. Thank you!**


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